A Tale of 2 Geniuses
by GeekyWrites
Summary: Billy bob Sherlock's life has taken a toll for the worst, while his older brother Mycroft is having the time of his life at his new boarding school Sherlock is still stuck at ridiculous primary school. But with new arch enemies, experiments to be done, murder and mischief, this year might be a bit more interesting. Especially with his new nosy neighbor: Hermione Granger.
1. The New Girl

**Author's Note**  
Unfortunately, I do not own the Harry Potter or Sherlock Franchise. They are owned to the queen, J.K. Rowling, and King Moffat

 **Chapter 1. First Impressions, and a lot of rain**

 **Sherlock POV**

"Sherlock, you are going to make me late again!" Mycroft screamed impetuously across the hall.

Honestly, I could care less about starting school anyways." I thought to myself, trying to make time go slowly as possible as you can tying your shoelaces.

"Mother!" whined Mycroft, who was still tapping his foot impatiently.

For having such a high IQ Mycroft could be the biggest bigoted idiot. It was truly unfair as he was going to his new amazing boarding school and I was still stuck at boring and stupid primary school. Fortunately it was my last year of primary school, but still I had to endure a whole year of it and that thought was sickening. I already would have skipped a grade if Mother had allowed me, but alas she did not as she didn't want me to be the youngest in the grade. It's not like making friends are important or anything, I retorted when she had told me her reasons. There was nothing new I needed to learn in school, in the end it won't matter who was the prime minister in 1920 or how to list all the prepositions. I'll have to delete those memories anyways, they'll prove useless in the long run. Mum says that they'll somehow be important but I don't see how dead people will help me in life.

Besides the classes being completely pointless the teachers had as much personality as a door handle and the kids in my class were idiots and rude ones at that. Mum of course is oblivious to that fact as they act different around adults. The only people they act like their true selves around is Mycroft, and of course he doesn't care at all. To him I'm just a pester, a burden to carry around.

"Sweetie, do we want to make Mycroft late?" Mum asked.

"But do I have to go to school?" I asked, making a big pouty face that I knew Mum liked. She sighed, we had been arguing about this for the past week.

"Yes, you do. But if you're really good I'll buy you a new chemistry set early. Is that a deal?" she asked. I shook her hand "Deal.

"Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Can we just go now?"

The school was only a block away, but even so I tried my best to make that walk as long as possible. Mum unfortunately was used to this and had woken us up thirty minutes earlier to make sure we actually got to school on the right time. Mycroft was taking me though, so it was the perfect opportunity to irk him even more."Can you pick up the pace?" Mycroft cried, impatient as ever. "Unlike you, I have something actually important to do with my life. Then again, I'm smart enough to do so."

"I'm smart." I retorted.

"oh yeah, then why are you in primary school then?"

"Maybe I want to be."

"We both you hate those idiots in your class Sherlock." he then bent down and looked at me in the eye.

"I'm going to be gone for a while, so can you promise me to at least pretend to be happy while I'm gone?" I nodded, Mum at least deserved that.

"In you go then." he said, and with a shove I was in the classroom.

"Hello dearie, what's your name?"I looked up to the lady, immediately recognising her as my new teacher, Mrs. Rosen.

"Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes." I blatantly replied.  
I did a quick analysis of her. She was wearing cheap perfume, though she didn't wear it often as she put too much on; she was also wearing makeup which was put on sloppily, suggesting she had been in a rush and running late, and was probably nervous meeting the new parents here and all. She put on a lot of makeup but tried to make it subtle, suggesting she was trying to make good impressions for the parents without being too obvious. She was wearing a nice cardigan, though I could tell it was one of her few nice cardigans as it had been worn many times as it had been sewn in several places. To top it off she had recently dyed her hair from brown to blonde, which was obvious.

I then scanned the room, it was about twice the size of my living room, so 20X20 feet maybe. On the left side were shelves upon shelves on the walls of books and on the bottom were a bins of toys and costumes. On the wall in front of me there was a whiteboard which had been newly installed, telling from the state of the nails and the board itself. Behind me were even more books and office supplies on her table. On the far right from me were tables and work stations, though I didn't stare too keenly at those. I shuddered, this was going to be a long year.

There were only three students in the classroom thus far. Mum had told me the class wouldn't be that large anyways, only twelve people. The first one I noticed was Molly Hooper, she was a quiet mousy girl with thin brown hair and big doe like brown eyes to match. She was always really quiet, and never spoke to me, not that I cared for it or anything. She was wearing a new jumper, as you could still see the remnants of the tag and how she fidgeted with it being newly worn. She also now had a cat, perhaps a Persian, telling from the hair sticking out of the jumper. I presumed she was drawing her cat as she was using the grey crayon, the same colors of the hairs on her jumper.

The second was Gregory Lestrarde. I had known him for a while as his mother worked in the bakery across the street from us. He was always the rambunctious type to say the least. He reminded me of a chipmunk, always chattering, speaking his mind even in the wrong times. There was also a sense of naivety and innocence to him. Maybe it was the way his hair stood, always curled up and was chocolatey brown, or maybe it was his eyes were also big and brown. I could tell he was the first one here as the immensive stacks of blocks surrounding him in a pile, as he kept building and destroying them over and over.

The third one was Jim Moriarty. I had never really taken a particular fondness to Jim, and had an even more distaste for him than others. He was supposedly had a high intelligence, though there was an air of darkness that I couldn't quite put my finger on. It was I guess just a feeling, an although I shouldn't trust it, I tried to avoid him still. He was super quiet sometimes or other time screaming to the top of his lungs. The one time I had tried to tell my mother how bipolar Jim was she whacked me and scolded me for calling him that. To her he was the perfect child, actually to every parent he seemed to give that illusion. To him he was the angel and I was the devil. Today he was reading a book and when he saw me a wicked smile came upon his face.

Suddenly a new girl came plundering in. She was awfully loud and obnoxious sounding. Even Mrs. Rosen was somewhat startled by her appearance. After 30 seconds of recovery Mrs. Rosen meekly asked her name and which she declared for what seemed to whole world to hear she said "Hermione Granger." I had never heard someone so loud before, even Lestrarde grew quiet in her presence.

I did a quick rundown of her. Her rain boots (which were quite muddy now) were brand new and a rather tacky yellow. They matched her coat which was an equally tacky yellow. In fact her whole entire outfit was new, suggesting that she was at least middle she didn't seem to take that much care into her appearance as tons of orange hairs covered her leggings and her hair was a complete frizz. On her side was a satchel bulging with pencils, pens, and I could even see the outline for an encyclopedia, suggesting high intellect or at least a liking for reading. Her hair was bushy brown hair looked like it had just exploded and was rather unkept, though I don't think it was because she was running late by any means. She also had two buck teeth and caramel brown eyes, they were searching and scanning the crowd, scanning the room just like I had.

Finally after five minutes she decided to sit next to Molly Hooper, and began to talk in a loud booming voice as if it was the best conversation in the world. Poor Molly Hooper just stuttered and cowered from the sheer sound of Hermione's voice. Hermione seemed to ignore this completely though (seeming to lack basic social skills) and tell who she was. I sat over at the tables, this Hermione girl was the most interesting one here to say the least.

"Hello Molly." I said, she gave a quick nod, her face fully flushed. She then went back to drawing of that dreadful cat.

"And you are?" she asked in her annoying, nosy tone.

"Why would I tell you?" I replied back with as much annoyance.  
"Because it's the polite things to do. I mean I already caught you staring at me." I blinked for a few times, she seemed a lot sharper than she seems, certainly more observant.

"I wasn't staring, I was observing." I replied.

"Big difference."

"Actually there is."

"Oh, then enlighten me."

"You come from a middle class family telling from the quality of your new clothes. You came from London but recently moved here, I'm guessing a job opportunity perhaps. You have one cat, guessing a tabby from the orange fur, and you're not quite comfortable in social places, suggesting introversion or at least not extremely extroverted. You observed the room quickly and you decided to sit by Molly Hooper for two reasons, one she was the only girl and people tend to go to people of the same gender, and two, she was drawing a cat and so you made that connection, I suppose birds of a feather really do try to stay together." I say, for a moment she's quiet but she quickly recovers

"Wrong, first off these clothes were from my grandparents, not my parents. Second, my cat isn't a tabby, it's a tortie. Finally, I didn't observe anything, I was just looking across the room unlike you."

"Well most of these things were on subconscious level anyways." I say.

"Well how could you tell then?"

"I notice things about people."

""Well I notice things too, and I think you're just making this all up."

"Am not!" I yelled, enraged at such an accusation. The nerve she has, after I just made her dumbstruck she thinks I'm just making it up.

"I'm not! Molly tell her!" Molly doesn't' of course say anything though, she has an amused look on her face.  
"I rest my case." It was tempting then to slap her.

 **6:00 at the Holmes**

"So how was school?" Mum asked, it was almost humorous how she acted like we were a normal family, but we were anything but that.

""School is horrible, I'm stuck with Jim and stupid Gregory."

"Don't call Gregory stupid."

"Why, he probably would even agree to it, it's not like he can hear me."

"Bless his soul, why don't you like the Jim boy anyways?" Dad asked.

"Because he's bipolar," Mum sighed.

"Sweetie it's really not nice to call him-"

"But it's true. He's only an angel around grown-ups, like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde."  
"Really do you have to be so rude to everyone? How about that Granger girl, she just moved in here from London. Her parents are supposedly lovely people, they're both dentists you know. They're actually our new neighbors, taking that forever blatant spot down the street from us. The Granger girl is supposedly nice, she's a child prodigy even."

"That's one way to put her, she's the bloody worst of them all. She's so bloody annoying, all she does is scream and yell and act obnoxious. She is just a bratty know it all from the city."

"Sherlock! It's your first day! You can't go around making these judgements about these people!"/p

"But Mum, more than 80% of the time I'm right and you know it."

"Give her a chance."

"Why should I? No one does for me."

"Because you're the better person."

"That's one way to put it."

 **Author's Note**

And after hours of torture it's finally finished! This is my first fan fiction so please I would like some reviews to make it better, less worse etc. Please only reviews more on the content though, my grammar is really bad anyways so oh well for that. Also I'll be trying to post every Tuesday, but we'll see how that turns out. I really will enjoy this though as I think it's a lot more fun to write from them from their younger views, Sherlock is a lot more naive while still arrogant as ever, and we get to see Hermione before she was just seemingly a muggle (still bad ass though).


	2. The Boy with the Piercing Blue Eyes

**Author's note**

In my dreams I do own Harry Potter and Sherlock, but sadly we live in this place called reality.

 **Chapter 2. The Boy with the Piercing Blue eyes**

 **Hermione POV**

"Hermione darling, please hurry darling!" dad called kindly but firmly.

I sighed, "I'll be right there, I just need to grab my encyclopedia first." I could hear father sigh but I knew he would oblige, it wasn't like I was doing anything ridiculous like putting on makeup or anything. Father was nice like that, and besides he was always encouraging my growth in curiosity.

I grabbed my book and did a quick scan of myself in the mirror. Today was my first official day in the new town. Well technically it wasn't my first day here as we had moved in two weeks ago, but it was my first day as it was my first day of school in the new town and my first day meeting anybody in the actual town. My parents had met already most of the neighbors though, the only family in fact we hadn't met were the Holmes family who lived across the street. They were supposedly a nice family, they had a son my age who was supposedly really smart like me. The Holmes parents were really smart too, the mother was a genius mathematician and the dad was an astronomer. I wondered mostly about the Holmes boy though, I wonder what he was like, and what he looked like.

I looked at myself in the mirror, Nana had bought the outfit for me the week before we had begun to move. She said it was a going away present. I still really missed her, it bothered me that we were more than a block away from her now. But dad had gotten a new job opportunity here and Mum wanted a new house. I guess it wasn't the worse, I had my own room and I still saw Nana on holidays and what not. But still I missed her a lot and I bet she did too. I also missed her neighbor though, Mrs. Hudson. Mrs. Hudson was a young nice lady who treated me always like her daughter and always had the best cookies for me. She had moved to Florida anyways though around the time we were moving, so Nana must really be lonely now.

I fidget with the collar of the shirt. The whole outfit Nana had bought herself, much to my dislike. It was a white collared shirt, a dark green flannel skirt, and navy blue stockings. I rather hated the outfit, it was a bit tight and not to mention itchy, but it had made Nana and Mum really happy for some reason. i had also promised to wear it on the first day of school which I was immensely regretting now, Dad and Mum had agreed I only had to wear it one occassion. It was either this or picture day. I smile at myself in the mirror, frowning a bit at my big buck teeth. I always hated them but Mum and Dad refuse to do anything about it, saying that my mouth we'll look weirded without them or even shaved down a little bit. I always feel like they stick out like a sore thumb though, which is probably why I don't smile that big in pictures anyways. My hair as usual is astray, I had tried brushing it once this morning but to of no avail. Mum and Dad don't even try anymore to tame it. I looked at the girl in the mirror, she looked more confident than I felt, as if ready to go.

"Darling we have to go now or I'm going to be late." Dad called.

"Coming Daddy!"

 **7:45 At the New School**

The new teacher's room is enormous, almost twice the size of my old apartment in London. The teacher is really nice too, young but not too young, and she has an air about her that I like. She also smells really good, a bit tropical but most warm and homely, just like a teacher should be.

While Dad talked to the teacher I scanned the room. I guess it's a habit now of doing it. I rather enjoy it, it prepares me a little bit more on what I have to deal with and how to act accordingly. It's like seeing the whole picture rather than a shot in the dark. There are only four students so far, and three of them are boys. I do hope the boys are less bothersome than the ones at my old school, there was one named Argus Filch who was the worst. He stuck pencils up his nose and it was disgustingly disturbing how far he could get it up his nose. What was more surprising though was that the teacher did not notice or care, which I liked to point out but alas she really did not care at all.

I scanned the room, playing a little game with myself, well it wasn't really a game because I was only playing with myself and therefore no winner but it was amusing and entertaining to say the least. This is basically how the game went, I would study a person for five minutes and after the time was up I had to decide based on their seeming personality what type of animal they were. Sometimes it was really easy, like Argus was a slug because he was slow moving, slimy acting, and all around disgusting, but other people were harder like my parents. It's not like I was being rude about these things anyways because I never said these things aloud, and mostly it was just for fun. I didn't mean to be rude to Argus, it was just how he acted.

The first one I did was the one playing with the blocks. He had short brown hair that seemed to stick up every which way, and based on the mess of the blocks, and how he had so much energy that seemed to bounce of the walls I decided he was most like a puppy. Besides being super hyper and optimistic, he seemed also a bit naive, almost in ditzy way. I sort of pitied him in away, because he couldn't help but look innocent though, with his fly away hair and big brown eyes. He sort of reminded me of my best friend, Janene's, little brother, he was three years old and always running around the house screaming and laughing all the time. I smiled remembering how it bothered Janene so much when he broke into her room but I didn't really mind, I found it rather cute in its own little way.

The second was the only girl who was over there drawing by the tables. She had a large grey jumper on and had really pretty, long straight brown hair. I envied it a little bit how perfect it seemed, neat and fashioned in a bow. My hair for sure couldn't stand being tamed. From her quiet nature and long brown hair I decided on a deer, naive, kind, and timid a bit but ultimately a thing of beauty and grace .

The third boy was the one in the back wall reading a book. He had dark brown nearly jet black hair, and really dark brown eyes, that glinted with a seemingly look of mischief. He looked up to me and smiled creepily. I knew right away from the way he looked at me that made me shiver down to my spine, he was a cobra, small but potent in number, sly and always ready to strike at the right moment.

The last boy was the one in the center of the room, scanning the crowd. He wasn't quite as easy as the other children in the room, it was harder to pin him down. He certainly wasn't hyper at all like a puppy, though he didn't seem timid like a deer. He had piercing eyes like a snake, but they were icy blue and seemed to have no evil intent, only seeming to be searching. His appearance did not help me much either, he was rather tall but lanky, his legs disproportionately longer than his upper half of his body. He probably was a head taller than me and towered over. He had a dark brown mop of curly hair on his head, and his eyes were an icy blue, though there also seemed to be a hint of green and gold under them. I decided to give it a rest after he caught me staring at him.

I decided to sit by the deer girl, after all she was the only girl in the room and seemed nice enough. As I sat on the table I noticed she was coloring a cat, "oh I have a cat too!" I exclaimed, a little too loudly. It was an awful bad habit of mine, as my friend Janene said that it was more probable that an asteroid would hit the earth than to me to stop talking a mile a minute. I also tended to be louder than I mean to, and it especially echoed in the quiet room.

The boy I had not yet classified yet then moved and sat next to Molly, giving her a quick nod. She obviously had a crush on him, she blushed red as a beet when he sat next to her and grew even more timid in nature. If the boy knew though he was oblivious as he almost completely ignored her after that. We sat there for a good while in awkward silence. Another bad habit was my hatred to be bored, I liked things to be spontaneous and full of energy, for me to do something, even talking with a complete stranger would satisfy me. Of course that got me in trouble a lot, but I found it was certainly more interesting than just being bored.

"And you are?" I asked.

For coming off so meek and quiet he certainly did have a big mouth, and a sharp tongue. By that though I mean he was the most arrogant person I had ever met and I had only seen him for five minutes. "Why would I tell you?" he asked in an obnoxious tone.

"Because I'm new and it's the polite thing to do, I mean I already caught you staring at me." I replied, trying my best to be polite. I mean sure I had only caught him staring at me because I had been staring at him, but he had been staring first so he was the one at fault right? He blinked a few times, apparently he was oblivious to me staring at him.

We then got into a full scale argument about how he wasn't staring and he was observing me. He then listed some things about me, which were creepy as I didn't even know his name yet he knew more things about me than it seemed I knew about myself. It was a little creepy, but more amazing. I didn't say any of this though, I wouldn't want to even raise his ego even more. Of course he wasn't completely accurate, which I bluntly pointed out, which seemed to annoy him even more. He was close in the facts though, which still made me on the edge. I didn't even know how he knew those things. He soon stormed off anyways, which was perfectly fine by me.

The class was really boring like most first days, it was just review, organising things and meeting everyone. Not that I was all that interested in anyone else though, I was fascinated by the boy with piercing blue eyes, whom I learned was my neighor, Sherlock (an odd name if you ask me) Holmes. He certainly what I had in mind, though I could agree that he was very intelligent. He was also really arrogant though, and a complete git. Anyways though, I spent most of my day observing him, he didn't seem to have that many friends in the class, and so it was easy to watch him alone as he was in his own world of his mind. I couldn't pick exactly what kind of animal he was. He was arrogant like a boar, but boars are brash and act stupid so he wasn't that. He was also potent seeking like a cobra, but that didn't fit as he seemed like no evil intent really, just arrogant and obnoxious. He was smart like an owl, but owls were gentle and kind and by no means he was that. He was unlike someone I had met before, some entire new animal on his own. In the end I decided he was a wolf.

Now a wolf may seem like an odd choice but it actually fit him perfectly. In truth I had never met anyone like a wolf before but it really did fit his profile. Wolves are smart and calculated, always searching the skies, and very observant of their surroundings. They were wise, though they didn't show it in the way like an owl who did it with kindness. Although his face was hawklike he had a quiet air to him, just like a wolf searching for prey, though they could be aggressive and brash just like him. Wolves were also very big and menacing, but if you gained their trust they calmed down, though their nature never truly could be tamed. There was also a dark side to wolves, the beast side that was there but sometimes hidden, I could sense in him that he had that too. He also seemed a bit lonely, like a lone wolf lost in the woods, trying to find their place in the world. Wolves may seem like bullies, often portrayed as villains in literature and such, but in truth they're just powerful creatures, you have to gain their trust but once you do they become loyal as ever.

Yes, that was him, the wolf boy.

 **Author's Note**

And I'm done! Okay, so again please review as I need some feed back on where to improve in the story or not. I really enjoy writing in Hermione, while Sherlock is much more interesting Hermione is also more humanely and optimistic. It's also less tiring as Hermione is more like me anyways. The game was inspired by what I used to actually play with my little brother, so there were bits like that I tried to incorporate into the story. Unfortunately that's the only mention of Mrs. Hudson you'll get as she ends up doing drugs with her husband stuff while Hermione is here. You'll get to meet someone else though from the Sherlock world soon though...


	3. Arguments, and tears

**Author's Note**

I do not own the Harry Potter or Sherlock Franchise, because of the stupid thing called reality.

 **Chapter 3. Tea, Neighbors, and A Nosy Girl**

 **Sherlock POV**

The next few days are just bloody awful, they're even worse now with this Granger girl here. Hermione did turn out to be a preotegee, or at least really smart in not one, not two, but literally all the academic subjects in school. Math and science I had always been good in, especially chemistry and anatomy. Everything else (the pointless subjects I liked to call) I was complete rubbish in. English, forget it, and don't even get me started on bloody history. Math and science though I as known to be good in, I was known to be top in the grade, maybe even the whole school, nobody was even close to me on that level. But now with Hermione here, who was with like every subject, good at science, I hated to admit but I actually had to compete in it which was bothersome and annoying even more. She knew it seemed even more about me which seemed impossible, and she even knew more than the teacher which made her half the time the teacher of the class. And it wasn't just in science and math either, it was like that with every single subject we learned. It was already bad enough that she was good in math and science, but she was great in history, grammar, and literature too. I couldn't see why she had to compete with me in my subjects when she already was great in those but for some reason she had to be just perfect in everything. She talked way too much too and always went too in depth in the subject, making us always late for lunch and recess. This was causing much annoyance with everyone, and soon she was becoming pretty unpopular. I don't know if she noticed though, but I certainly did, pretty soon people were avoiding her and not sitting with her. If she wasn't such an annoying git I might have felt bad for her but I didn't. She was even more unpopular than me, not that I was popular or anything. She had hit a new low now, becoming even more unpopular, a new record in the school.

So when the weekend finally came I was glad for it, I was tired of having to complete with Hermione, and it was starting to get mentally draining. I was already dreading this school year but at least I got a break from her in the weekends. Besides, I got to hang out with one of my few friends and neighbor, John Watson. John's parents and my parents had known each other before we were even born. Our family apparently have always had very close ties to each other throughout the generation and I guess we were no exceptions. Mom had even gone to college with John's mom, so it was really a good coincidence when they ended up being neighbors. There was a three year between me and John, but it didn't matter much as what my Mum called my very unique personality. That and my high intellect probably was more than enough for John to handle. John had always been really nice to me ever since I was little, he was like a better big brother and best friend. He would always hang out with me when I was younger, even when his friends were around and he made sure when I did meet his friends that they were nice to me. He also stood up to the bullies in my school, which is probably why I stopped being bullied as much today. Not that I am not completely bullied, they just use words and social cues instead of punches and kicks.

DI ran over to John's house, which was just two houses down from mine. As usual he was playing video games, he had gotten really into them lately, ever since last Christmas. His friend had given them to him, it was an alien shooting game which I found rather pointless. The friend who had given to it to him had been nice enough (they had to be around John) but they never treated me as an equal, probably because I was younger than them, even though I was probably smarter than they'll ever be. I hated video games though, it was stupid that you earned points in killing something that was about to kill you anyways. There was also no strategy anyways, it was just blatant shooting, luck, and timing. Things that had no point in the real world. I had once told John that who said I was looking into it to much, and said I was only saying that because I wasn't good at them. That was a bunch of idiocy and I pointed out all the flaws in the game to the point that John nearly whacked me because he was so annoyed.

"Hey John." I said, slipping next to him on the couch. He was now playing a zombie shooting game, which was even stupider than the alien one. If it really was the zombie apocalypse why would you be on the ground and not hiding, not to mention you would be wasting resources at this rate he was going. Why would you even go to the zombies anyways, that's like asking to be killed.

"Hey." he said,

"Zombie on the left." I commented. He shot to the left,

"Thanks, how's school?" He asked.

"School is bloody awful, there's this super annoying girl in my class now. All she does is talk, and be a know it all. She actually just moved here though from across the street. Her name is Hermione."

"Oh I heard she was really nice, certainly smart from my Mom. She's actually coming over." I groaned.

"What's your problem with her?" He asked.

One of the few flaws John had was his pure stupidity, I hate to be rude but he really did have an average mind, certainly not that above if it was. I had clearly just stated why she was horrible, yet he still asked. She was just so annoying, I don't even know why she bothered me more than usual her nature, maybe it's how she presented it, it was just so horrid.

"Well she's a loud mouth, know-it all, and won't ever shut up." I said, crossing my arms. I hated her so much, the mention of her left a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Sounds like someone I know." John grumbled. I wondered who he was talking about. Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

 **Hermione POV**

I had decided to go over at John's house for three reasons, one, he had invited me over yesterday and it seemed the nice thing to do, two, I was going to be bored anyways because my parents were doing errands all weekend so I might as well occupy myself even for a few minutes, and three, I needed to meet the new neighbors and John seemed like a good start. He had come over yesterday to ask, which of course I said yes, John was three years older than me though treated me as if we were the same age, I had a feeling he treated everyone like that though. If I had to call him an animal I would call him a badger, kind, loyal, and always protective. He was a bit taller than me, though he didn't tower over like sherlock, he also had a warm welcoming air to him that I liked. I wonder what his family must be like.

I knocked on the door and then held my breath. I had always done that since I was little, always having the little subconscious fear that they wouldn't answer the door because something horrific had happened or they wouldn't come in time because something bad would happen to me. I sort of made that up though, as my mother called it was a side affect of having a hyperactive imagination. Mrs Watson though soon opened the door, she was a warm person with a large smile and even kinder demeanor, I could immediately see where John got his nature from. Mrs. Watson called for John who came and followed behind him was Sherlock. I was a bit surprised to see Sherlock here, I mean he lived two doors down so that was no surprise but still I didn't think he would actually hang out with someone like John. I had always pictured him like he is at school, isolated, not even trying to get close to people, and doing things his own way. I guess when I pictured him on the weekend I pictured him in his basement in like some make shift lab, making experiments and exploding things down stairs. I never pictured him as doing anything ordinary, because he acted so out of that line.

Sherlock was clearly not happy to see me, to be honest I wasn't thrilled to see him either. His nature wasn't much better throughout the week, in fact he seemed to have gotten even worse. I had voiced my discomfort of him to my parents who said to give him time. Of course they were very oblivious because if they had met Sherlock they would have immediately regretted saying that.

"Hello Sherlock." I said, trying to keep the mirth out of my voice.

"Granger" he said, not with much contempt either. He had only called me by my last name so far, as if my first name disgusted him. Not as if his name was much more common or prettier anyways. We stared at each other for a while, his eyes piercing and sharper than ever, a burning fury lying under his cool blue eyes. I was if he was daring me, daring me to do something out of the ordinary, to surprise him. It was in a mocking way too, as if he was betting I couldn't do anything that would surprise him, he was too smart to be surprised.

"John, now everyone know's their name. Everyone good now?" John said eyeing Sherlock, as he was trying to break the silence. I smiled at his efforts to try to break the tension in the air, it was still there but at least it seemed less tense. Sherlock grudgingly nodded and he then led us to his living room.

What I love most about visiting people is seeing their homes themselves. I love not just the way their decorated but the little quirks, the unique little details in every nook and cranny of each home. I love how the way the pictures of John when he was little and his family are put on the mantle piece on top of the fire, the frames neatly tidy and the pictures put in their own unique way. I also love the piles of books on the coffee table which are put in a helter skelter way, showing that they weren't perfect, that they were real and had a homely feeling, just like any family should. The house wasn't perfect, it wasn't like those pictures you see in magazines with it perfectly organised and neat, it was real, not just a pristine and fake. So perfect you couldn't even relate to it.

My old house had been like that, I could name every quirk in every room and in every which way it affected it. I remember ever little crack in the walls, dents in the places where they shouldn't be, scuffs in the paint. I remember where they came from and how they got there, the memories forever in those walls. Even if someone moved in there and covered them they would stay, showing our forever affect on that apartment. I missed that small apartment, even though it was smaller and cramped it was our small cramped place with the perfect memories and all. It was our mismatched way, just like those two pair of socks that don't quite match but are still perfect together. It was perfect just like our family, a little mismatched but in the end alright. Our new house wasn't like that at all, it was dull, a blank canvas. No previous owners had had it so it looked more like the houses in the magazines, too perfect to be real. It didn't even have your little quirks of all the books in helter-skelter because not all the books had come yet, the house didn't looked lived in at all and it made me miss my old apartment even more.

After a few moments of awkward silence John finally asked how I was. He could clearly fill the tension building again and was trying to break it.

"Oh let me answer for her, I feel presomptulous or something nonsensical like that because I'm Hermione Granger, the know it all who just has to use big words to make herself seem smarter." He said bitterly, saying it all rather quickly before I could even get a word in.

"Sherlock." John said warningly, and eyeing him to back down.

"It's presumptuous by the way." I retorted, feeling a bit annoyed now. The nerve, I didn't know why he hated me, sure I hadn't always been the nicest but that always was his fault anyways. I had tried but he just seemed to hate my efforts even more and I was growing tired of it.

"Whatever, it doesn't matter anyways because I don't really care anyways."

"You know I don't ever understand people like you, I had a few people like you at my old school. They were always so hateful and cruel to people like me, people they barely knew. Why are you guys like that?"

"Trust me, I'm not an idiot like those people, you will never meet a person like me."

"Oh please."

"You do realise I'm not the only one with this opinion, here are a few other quotes, arrogant, brat, know-it all, and loudmouth to name a few, quote un quote." he was angry now but still had the nerve to smirk at me. I was getting really mad at him, madder than I had ever felt before.

"That's just your opinion."

"Actually, surprisingly it's not. In case you can fit in your cranium all these things, let me break it down for you. You are not popular exactly, do you realise people are avoiding you, do you even have any actual friends?"

This made me so angry but he did have a point. I really did not have people I considered friends, not at least like my old school at least. Thinking about it made me even more mad, because I didn't have to deal with people like him. "Molly Hooper is nice to me, and Ella lent me a pencil during an exam."

"Oh please, Molly is nice to everyone, she's too timid to be rude, and now suddenly pencils are defining cores of friendship?" He said, a smugger look building on his face, his ego growing even more. We were both standing now, leaning across the tables, both face furrowed in concentration and fury.

"Well do you have _any friends?_ " I yelled.

For a moment he was silent, the smug look immediately wiping off his face. he looked like he was about to say something but then shut his mouth rather quickly, reminding me sort of a fish out of water, their mouths opening quickly and closing. Mrs Watson unfortunately came at the worst of the moment, bringing with her a tray of cookies and milk that she nearly dropped after hearing me screaming. Later I felt bad but at the moment I was too angry to care. John was completely hopeless now knowing it was too late for him to intervene or anything. he sat just watching us, not saying a word. The moment seemed to last forever but it was probably not even five minutes. It was rather awkward and barbaric, only ending when Sherlock fumed out of the house, too angry to even scream.

After watching him leave I sat down on the couch, fuming. I wasn't all that hungry but I began to eat the cookies, taking out all my anger on them. The nerve of him, didn't he realise I knew people saw me as different? Didn't he know how much it hurt and how much I tried to fit in with fail? I wasn't a complete idiot, I knew people saw me as different. I thought maybe he might understand me, he seemed smart and isolated too but I was wrong. He was just like most boys, a bigoted idiot who doesn't care for anyone. John stayed quiet for a while, which was the kindest gesture. Tears started to pour down my face which made even madder but I couldn't stop them. They were bitter tears, tears of sadness of being alone, anger at Sherlock, anger at everyone just isolating me already. Anger at even myself, and questioning why I just had to be so different.

"How can you stand him?" I asked, John sat over and patted me on the back.

"Don't take it too personally Hermione, he just gets in moods like that."

"Moods?" I asked, incredulous.

"Well more like a phase that doesn't end until he gets excited or happy about something. This is by one of his moods by far though."

"And it's all because of me, why does he hate me so much?"

"I don't think he means exactly to hate you, Sherlock even though he is a genius can be a complete idiot and git on these sort of things. He doesn't understand that his words hurt people, he doesn't even really understand why to care about people. To him, he finds it pointless to even care about people. Truth be told I think he respects you in his own twisted way and maybe is even intimidated by you. Maybe, even a bit jealous." His eyes then got wide.

"Don't tell Sherlock that though, he'll kill me." I laughed at John's expression.

"Don't worry I won't. I guess it makes sense." I said, and even though I was still angry at him and would probably punch him still, I still couldn't help but pity the little wolf boy.

 **Author's Note**

Well that was a dramatic scene, the important thing you learned here is that kids are mean. Unfortunately they don't get much nicer though, still I enjoyed writing this one, Hermione is a very powerful character and could help Sherlock, for better or for worse. :) Next one is in Sherlock POV though, so we get to see his side of this argument. See you until then. Also review please, I want to make sure I'm not completely failing everyone.


	4. Little Bee Drawings, Part 1

**Author's Note**

I do not own Sherlock or Harry Potter, (duh)

 **Chapter 4. Little Bee Drawings**

 **Sherlock POV**

I was still furious and fuming a lot when John came over. Immediately after my argument with Hermione I had gone straight home, slamming the door and locking myself into my room much to my mother's dismay. She hated when I slammed the doors, the loud sound echoing throughout the thin walls in the house. She said it wasn't good for the doors though I think I had bigger issues at the moment than just worrying about a large piece of wood. My mother yelled at me to unlock the door and started pounding on it, I was used to this though and didn't budge, her finally giving up after twenty minutes, her footsteps slowly fading away.

I couldn't believe Hermione, the nerve she had. She had gone over the line, a step too far and she would regret it. And after all I said she still had the nerve to do that, I couldn't believe how much of a jerk she was. I had thought she was just annoying but it turns out she was rude too. I guess I hadn't been the nicest to her but she deserved it from the very beginning. All the things I had said were facts and I had stated them so, saying them in the most logical way possible so she would understand. It was the pure truth and she needed to get used to hearing it, someone had to say it to her anyways; it was only a matter of time and I was just speeding up the process. I thought I had been doing her a favour, maybe if she stopped being so bloody annoying she would finally change or something, which would be for the better of everyone, especially for her and for me. She was set in her ways though, not willing to change for some reason, and it just bothered me all the more.

John pounded on the door and I could immediately tell he wasn't happy, I opened it and saw John, his face furious. To be honest I was a bit shocked, I didn't know why John was so mad over this. I had only seen John so mad like this before and that was ages ago. It had been when the kids kept bullying me and had stood up to them, nearly punching one in the face. Of course he got in trouble for it but it did help make sure people didn't bully me as much and that I was grateful for.

John's face though was lot scarier when it was reversed on you and I could suddenly see why no one bullied me physically anymore. The look on his face made him more menacing, making me realise how much bigger, and older he was, and stronger too. It made me a cower a bit to be honest, his body seeming to grown even bigger and making him seem even more menacing.

His voice was low but I could feel it was boiling with anger when he spoke. "Sherlock, what the bloody hell were you thinking?" I suddenly realised what this was all about and I got fired up again.

"What the bloody hell are you thinking, John?" I ask back, my voice just as sharp.

"How could you say those things to her and be such an arse about it?" His voice was on the verge of yelling now.

"Well it's not my fault that they are true, I can't help that she's the most annoying person on this planet. Besides you should be mad at her too if you're going to be like that, she's the one that crossed the line, and made it even worse and stepped over. She's the one who's at fault here."

"I can't believe you, Sherlock you're the one that started it!"

"But she's the one who made it worse."

"Oh, so is calling someone an annoying know-it-all and having no friends and never will cool now Sherlock because I don't think so!"

"Well it's her fault they're true."

"That doesn't mean you need to say it, besides how do you know it's true what anyone bloody says. You of all people know that."

"John, just get out of this, stop acting like you're a part of this. This doesn't even involve you, you're three years older than us for crying out loud! I'll admit maybe I didn't say it subtly but every thing I said is true."

"Oh please Sherlock, not everything you hear is true, she seemed nice enough."

"Well you barely knew her, and she's not."

"Maybe I would have known her more if you weren't such a jerk to her!" He was yelling now.

"Look I think you and Hermione have more in common than you think." he said, his voice low again now, he seemed more frustrated at me now than angry, as if I couldn't understand what he was saying. I did, he was just wrong though.

"Like what?" I said bitterly.

"You're both smart. "

"Except she's bloody annoying smart and I'm smart in different ways." He seemed even more frustrated though.

"Okay, so you may not agree that you have anything in common, but at least try to work out your differences? You have to stay a whole year with her after all, at the very least apologise to her."

"I'm not apologising for telling the truth." John stared at me, less with anger or frustration, but more defeat.

"Please?"

"Get out." I said. He didn't even protest. He just left, leaving me as frustrated and confused as ever before.

 **John POV**

I couldn't believe bloody Sherlock I'm a genius Holmes. This was probably the angriest I had ever been at Sherlock, and trust me, I had been angry at Sherlock plenty of times, after all, he wasn't exactly the nicest person in all of England or anything. Sure by now I was used to his black moods, tempers, short patience, arrogance, and sharp words. After all after you got to know him you had to be able to get used to it if you even wanted to remotely to be close to him, and I had seen plenty of him on his worst days, knowing him for years so I was used to it. Doesn't mean it still bloody annoyed me but I was getting used to it. This though wasn't just a mood that Sherlock expressed, this wasn't even worse than his black moods, this couldn't just be excused as some thing that would fade away because he was out of sorts or something, he had pushed the barrier too far this time. He had gone not just past the line but out of the whole box in general. The hatred that poured out of him was something I had never seen out of sherlock before, it was something so dark I didn't even know Sherlock could have it, and to be honest it kind of disgusted me that he did. I couldn't believe Sherlock would go that far with her, and to think he was the first one to pick the fight which was really unlike him to fight for no uncalled reason.

Let me be clear, Sherlock is no ordinary eight year old boy, he was remarkably so very unique about him. He had the intelligence of an adult perhaps, maybe even more, the sharp tongue of a teenager, and the maturity for his age, which made for a very unique combination on Sherlock. This often resulted in many things, for one, having a lack of respect for teachers, two often struggling to find friends because nobody could keep up with him on an intellect level, and three, often (though I knew he would never admit it) was lonely. That's why I thought Sherlock might like Hermione, she seemed remarkably smart too, it might be someone his age who could actually for once keep up with him. Even I had trouble keeping up with Sherlock, and I was three years older than him. I thought that he and Hermione might get along, but no, Sherlock seemed to despise her and hate her with all his heart. I still didn't have a bloody clue why, perhaps it was jealousy but something ran deeper in there that I couldn't quite place my finger on.

I felt awful for Hermione, it was already bad enough that she was the new girl in this town and seemingly having no friends yet, trying to meet new people and get along. She was probably homesick too. Sherlock though just had to make it a hundred times worse for her, and for no real bloody reason. As if she didn't have it bad enough he just had to point out every flaw in her, and what she was doing wrong, his words were a dagger, sharp and pointed. I had visited Hermione later the next day after the incident, she seemed better though things like that just don't disappear over night. It was going to take a while even with the unlikely probability of Sherlock apologising for her to finally forgive him.

As for Sherlock I didn't even bother with, I was already mad at him enough, I was tempted to leave a note to try to convince him but I knew that wouldn't bloody work, he wouldn't probably even read it, it was bloody pointless for him for me to try to even consider writing an apology to Hermione. I don't even know how to describe the hatred I had for Sherlock at the moment. I hated people being defenseless like that and being picked on because they are different, Sherlock of all people especially knew that. Out of all people I would have least expected Sherlock to be like that, to act like such a bully to her. Sherlock knew what it was like for her, how it felt to be different and what it felt like to not fit in, he probably still did to some extent.

I think back to the time of when I had first met him, how innocent he had been back then. Even at the age of four he was a genius, smarter than me now probably. He was only smart in a few things though, for some reasons he was obsessed with bees, he had a bee jacket, a bee shirt, even a bee sweater. I remember we would just talk about bees and he would spout all these facts about them and I would just listen in awe. He was also interested in other things too, like the solar system and such, but science was his only preference, and it was mainly bees.

Those days are now long gone though, it all changed really when he started school. Each year he's been getting progressively colder and colder, blocking out more of the world, emotions, people, he finds it all the more irrelevant to him. Sometimes I worry that he's forgotten what it's like to feel emotions, becoming so calloused to these emotions that the little boy I once knew won't ever come back, disappearing with the trail of time and memory.

 **Sherlock POV**

Strange dreams echo in my head tonight, swimming in and out of my consciousness. John's words especially today echo throughout my head for some reason. I think somewhat of how I had once read dreams were just pictures and recollections of things we had learned that day, being played on replay. I sure hope that is true as these memories just play over and over in my mind.

I hear John's voice loud enough as if he is next to me. "You guys are similiar." John says.

I frown at these words, we're not even remotely close. No we can't be alike at all, no one in this world is like me. No one else in this world understands me and I'd like to keep it that way. No one else is on my level of intelligence to even remotely be close to understanding or comprehending me. Sometimes even my own parents didn't understand me, much less my teachers and god forbid my class. It was pointless for John to even think that Granger girl was close to me, as if we could be 'friends' or something ludricous like that. I was alone on this solely, a single thing, drifting alone in this place we call our world.

I soon fell into a restless sleep, dreaming of memories of a long ago naivety.

 **Author's Note**

Okay that was a bit more dramatic than I had intended it to be, I made Sherlock seem sort of emo in this. I love John as a character though, I tried bringing in elements of his character from the show into this, though I don't know how much that actually showed. I think the part with John was also necessary, you needed to see what Sherlock was like from another perspective who actually knew him for a long time as a friend. Next chapter will be a bit longer too, though it will be more of a backstory so we get to see what Sherlock is like. :) Also please review I need to make sure this is a good chapter and that you like where the story is progressing so far.


	5. Little Bee Drawings, Part 2

**Author's Note**

I do not own the Sherlock or Harry Potter franchise due to it being owned by the two most amazing/biggest heartbreakers ever in cinematic/literature history (besides game of thrones)

 **Chapter 5. Little Bee Drawings**

 **7 years ago**

 **Sherlock POV**

Be good Sherlock, try to make some friends and absolutely no experiments during recess." Mum said.

She scuffled up my dark brown mess of hair finally stopping after much protests from Mycroft saying that we would be late on our first day of school at this rate. Mum handed over my lunch box to me, and smiled, I beamed back the biggest smile I could back at her. I remember this day perfectly down to ever detail because today was the day everything seemingly changed at big for everyone, today was my first day of school. I was for the most part excited, though a bit daunted by the task of it; I figured though nothing that bad could happen on the first day of school, after all it was the first day only. I had this ludricous idea nothing bad could happen on the first day of school, as if a spell was placed so that everyone had a good first day of school. I learned later not to believe in magic.

Besides everything had been perfect, I had picked out the little outfit myself, with the large red jumper on and everything. Mum had also let me go shopping with her last week so I got to pick out the lunch box too, which was an easy choice. I still remember that little lunchbox, the memory still fresh. It was a small metallic lunch box, the only thing on it was huge cartoon bee painted yellow. I really adored that lunch box, I carried it around with me everywhere, sometimes using it to carry other things than just for school. It got so bad in fact that Mum had to buy me too, just so she had one to use for lunches at school. I don't know really why I was obsessed with bees, when I had asked Mum about it she said that I had always been. She said once I was too I had even stung my hand trying to make a bee fly again, she said I was so sad, not because the bee had stung me, but because the bee had died right after that and never got to fly again.

"Mum do I really have to take him, why can't you?" Mycroft asked. Mycroft was only ten then, but still obnoxious as ever. Actually I don't really have a memory of him not being obnoxious. This was his last year of primary school before he left for his super special boarding school. It was the only year he had to take me every single day to school, after that I went on my own which was fine since it was only two blocks away and the path wasn't hard to follow.

"Yes, I have work to do and I want you to stay with him Mikey, make sure he's situated." Mycroft groaned at the mention of his nickname, he absolutely hated it for some reason.

"Mum, my name is Mycroft and I would prefer you to struggle to get all the way through it." he said, grabbing my hand and bringing me out the door before my mother could say anything back.

The scene soon changes and I'm alone in the nursery, Mycroft had abruptly left after dropping me off at the building saying he had more important things to do than to make sure I got 'situated'. I made a mental note as to tell mother about that when I got home from school. The nursery room seemed rather large to me, though it would seem small now since I've grown. The walls were a pale baby blue, though you could hardly tell with all the things decorating the walls. In the centre of the room there was a large carpet, which faced a large oaken rocking chair and a old fashioned chalkboard, the dust making me sneeze. There were also stations of toys and books, those don't interest me that much. Finally on the far right is the teacher's table along with ours, with buckets filled to the brim with crayons, markers, and other crafts like materials bought new for the school year.

Mrs. Fowl, my nursery teacher I immediately took a disliking too. She was an old bat with wiry grey hair and thick cat shaped glasses. She also smelled vaguely of moth balls. She had a large hooked nose and mole on her right cheek, and had a very disorganised air to her as she went fumbling and rushing about to talk to the parents. Mrs. Fowl in the end wouldn't be the worst teacher I had I suppose, though she exactly wasn't the most responsible one either, she often slept in class leaving us to our own demises. Of course the parents never found out about this by a miracle, so Mrs. Fowl was still somehow teaching after all these years.

All of the other kids have arrived with their parents, most of them hanging on and hiding behind them, observing before entering, too scared to make the first move. I don't bother to try to talk to them, it's pointless anyways and a waste of my time to try to convince them to do something other than hide behind their parents. So I pick up a piece of paper and at a table I begin to draw a bee.

Though the parents think I can't hear it or I'm too stupid or something, I can still hear their conversations. It's not like they're whispering or anything. It's really kind of stupid, it's like talking about someone behind their backs with them being right in front of them, kind of pointless to be discreet by then. Still I can see they're trying not to draw attention, gossiping about me and my family mainly. I don't really do anything about it though, after all I'm only three years old and three year olds don't really care what grown ups say. At three it doesn't matter as much to you what strangers think about you, you only focus more on yourself and those close to you, those are who make up your world. Besides it doesn't interest me and when you're three only the things that can last your attention span can interest you, like for instance right now the drawing of my bee. Everything else sort of just melts into the background, I can only hear the voices muddled and from the distance, as if they are far away. Every now and then picking out snippets like:

"Why are his parents not here, did you see them?"

"No, he came in all alone, not even an older sibling helped him get here."

"Who is the kid anyways?"

"Oh I bet he's the dreadful boy from down the street, the one that used to throw all those nasty temper tantrums. I bet he's a Holmes boy for sure."

"It's such a shame, the Holmes family before the children seemed so lovely."

"I thought they were a bit off if you ask me, besides look how irresponsible they are now. If they really were good people, then why did they let their child go to school alone?" I still don't listen though as I continue drawing my picture of the bee, focusing my concentration on the lining of the wings, trying to get every line perfectly drawn.

A girl then comes up to me, she has straight thin chestnut brown hair that falls to her shoulder and is flat like a paintbrush and rather large dark brown eyes. She wears a large red bow which accents her hair, tilted slightly to the right, and a grey jumper with a red plaid skirt to match it. Her shoes are black too, all things are new considerably just for the first day of school. She approaches me slowly, she's obviously nervous telling from the way she messes with her clothing, a sign of anxiety though I don't know why. She just stands by me saying nothing, which doesn't really bother me but it does make me wonder what she wants.

Finally she begins to squeak out the words. "I like your drawing, my name is Molly." she says, her voice meek and quiet. her voice in fact was so quiet but that at first I can't hear her.

"What's your name?" she adds rather softly, as if afraid to say them, like talking to me will bring something bad to her. I wonder if her parents are one of those that dislike me or if she's just shy.

"Sherlock." I say nonchalantly, not really paying attention to her. She just nods, mumbling the name, letting it roll of the tongue.

I never really liked my real first name, or my whole name in general that is, I always found my first name to be too boring, too easy, something so common. I always my real name was foolish or something, even when I was little I refused to respond to it, adamantly instead going for my middle name, Sherlock. No one out of my family of course knows my real first name, everyone always assumed it was Sherlock considering Mycroft's name they thought it was a theme for my family for their son's have these long luxurious names or something. Even John still doesn't know that my real first name isn't Sherlock. I don't like my other middle name either though, the only thing I prefer is in fact my one middle name and my last name, which I thought always matched my 'first name'.

"That's a really nice-" before Molly could finish her sentence though she was soon pushed out of the way, and my drawing was stolen by Lestrarde. Lestrarde then runs around across the classroom, screaming like a banshee, pretending to be a super hero or whatnot. I had known Lestrarde before, though I never really remember his first name, maybe it's Graham or George, it's definitely starts with a G. Anyways, his mother and my mother had set up play dates before in the past, but there had only been a few and far in between. They usually ended up as total disasters with Lestrarde usually crying and me trying to explain it wasn't my fault he got the paint in his eyes. Which then ended up with his mom and my mom arguing and not going on playdates until a good while again, which was in my terms, fine by me.

Lestrarde was still screaming on the top of his lungs and I was right after him, and I would have caught him too if he wasn't tripped by a girl. The girl had long, curly, dark chocolate brown hair which sort of in my opinion looked curled like a candy cane, in a sort of swirly motion that made it seem symmetrical. She had green as jade eyes too that were rather large and long lashes to match it, her face were covered with freckles and looked rather splattered onto her face like paint. She wore a rather poofy and obnoxious looking pink dress which looked uncomfortable, as if straight out of a fairy tale. She had also a large bow nearly as big as her face in her hair to match. She looked as though she was trying to be princess like, though in the end looked more ridiculous. The 'princess girl' turned out to be more wicked anyways, as I learned later her name was Charlotte and she would become one of the biggest bullies for me at school.

She swiped the drawing from Lestrarde's hands and held it above me, barely out of my reach. She was rally tall surprisingly, almost a head taller than the grade and even an inch taller than me. She then inspected the drawing and immediately dropped with a shriek as if the bee drawing was an actual bee. "What is that?" she shrieked.

"It's a bee." I said, matter of factly, a bit too earnestly perhaps but I didn't really understand how someone could not like bees.

"That is the ugliest thing I ever seen, why would you draw a thing like that? You're so weird." she exclaimed. I frowned, slightly mad at her because she had said bees were ugly or at least that my drawing was, I was also confused though, I had drawn to my best and clearly she couldn't think bees were ugly because bees weren't, who could ever think they were?

A boy then picked up the drawing, he had brown nearly black hair that was combed over neatly and nearly pitch black eyes. His eyes glinted with almost evil intent and he smirked with mirth as I tried to get the picture back from him. He didn't talk at all, he didn't need to to see shivers down my spine. There was some odd air about him that made me scared of him, or at least intimidated, kind of like that feeling you can't explain but you just want to back up and stay away. He tore the picture in half right in front of me to my horror, almost laughing when he saw my face. I then clenched my fist and gritted my teeth, a new kind of anger boiling inside of me, and I punched him right then and there, which was how I spent my first day of school in the principal's office.

Mum had to go to a meeting with the principal after the incident and had to take me early from school, she wouldn't speak to me all from the walk to school home. I thought perhaps she would have been madder and she was mad, but she seemed more exhausted, frustrated, exasperated even about the whole ordeal. She proceeded to scold me, asking why I would punch a kid for no reason. I then explained what had truly happened and that's what made her truly furious, she the nearly in her fury called Jim's mother but I stopped her, thinking of what Jim would say and how it might make the situation worse and more of drawings would be torn if Mum called Jim's mum and made him apologise. I then thought anyways of the cruel things the parents had said about Mum anyways, and that she didn't need to know it.

I didn't mention any of these things to Mum though, and finally she cooled off enough not to call Jim's mother. I remember before going to be talking to Mum, I asked her about different people and things, I didn't mention though what the parent's had said about me. I remember Mum then hugging me tight, almost too tight, as if she could protect me from all the hard things in the world, in that moment it seemed to do. I asked why the boy had torn my picture and why the girl had called me weird for drawing something that I liked? She said some people are born like stars, unique and different for this world, she said that I was one of those stars and people would always treat me differently because they would be afraid. She then said to never treat anyone like that, just because I was afraid. I never realised until then I was different, I had realised a little bit perhaps but when you're whole family is a family of stars you don't realise that.

She hugged me tight again, and though I knew she didn't want me to hear it, I could feel the tears streaming off her face. I didn't care then though that I was different, I only cared about my torn drawing of a little bee.

 **Author's Note**

And now you see, Sherlock's sad backstory. I always thought Sherlock was bullied, I never bought him into being in some special classes or something just because he was autistic, I think people would have at least seen how smart he is to not buy that. Bullying I think in the end is what tears Sherlock, and I'm kind of sad because I don't see as many headcannons of Sherlock being bullied or anything, but rather of him being autistic and being in stupid classes and stuff. This was inspired by a quote I found: _"Stay with me, the world is dark and wild, stay a child while you can be a child."_

Honestly don't know where I got the quote from I think it really tells what kind of character Mrs. Holmes is. In the BBC series Mr. Holmes mentions that she would do anything for her sons and I think its true, we just don't get to see it as much because they're adults now. I really loved the moments with her though in the adult series but I wanted to see her more of her younger self, and when she actually had to raise these two, a big challenge if you ask me. Anyways I hope you like it and please, please, please review!


	6. Presentations with Sherlock Holmes

**Author's Note**

I don't own anything by the Harry Potter or Sherlock Franchise because I am neither rich like that or British enough.

XXX

 **Chapter 5. Presentations with Sherlock Holmes**

Today was the worst day ever, and I know that seems very dramatic (my parents say I am dramatic already) but it seemed true. For starters I woke up late which made my father late and rushed, and I forgot my homework at home and was late (my father wasn't happy being late to work either, he had a big dentist meeting) it also gave Sherlock the upper hand already in the class today and I didn't catch up, which bothered me even more.

It's not like I care about being beaten, I just want to be beaten by the right person. I don't want to be beaten ever by Sherlock Holmes, the arrogant, stuck up, bratty, rude, and utmost git. I couldn't know how John even stand to look at him, the way he treated him, and how that was his supposed only friend. I couldn't believe John stood up with it, he was too nice was the only solution I could come up with to see why he would stand being treated that way. When I had asked John how he did he had simply said you got used to it. Well, I wasn't going to get used to it one bit and I certainly never, ever, was going to be friends with Sherlock Holmes. I didn't need a utmost git and horrible person in my life, even if he was a genius.

I still didn't know why though he had treated me that way, I had thought about it all weekend, John I guess tried to give me some insight, though it didn't help much. He said the nature of Sherlock wasn't understood until much later, and even then, you'd never get a full satisfactory picture. I knew John was probably right, he had a nature about him that was much darker, a force no one especially our age should have. Why I wondered, he would have it. Everyone could see it though, it blocked him from the world and made everyone almost afraid of him. The darkness didn't scare me though, it just intrigued me, who was Sherlock like before the dark wall?

But anyways, things only went downhill from today, I spilled milk on the library book I was borrowing, and got some on my shirt after tripping and falling in front of everyone; and to top it off I got paired with Sherlock Holmes. The only good thing it seemed about the day, was that Sherlock seemed unhappy as I was.

I tried talking the teacher out of it but she refused to let us trade, saying it was a learning opportunity. I had already learned plenty though from him, especially how not to act in front of people and how to be rude and hateful. She said that people could surprise you and what not, whatever, Sherlock may fool everyone else but I saw who he really was and I didn't like it.

As much as I loved our third grade teacher I still resented her choice, as if I could learn anything from Sherlock Holmes. The only thing I learned was of his anger in him, and how much he hated me and still wouldn't apologise for it. The teacher unsurprisingly though wouldn't listen to rhyme or reason, her nature was like that though. She was a hummingbird in nature, always going one place to the other, a forgetful naive sort of way, she could never stay in one place too long though, it was much too tiring and boring for her.

Sherlock didn't even try conversation after school, he just muttered in my ear to meet him after school at his house. I didn't reply or argue, I wanted the project finished as much as he did, maybe even more. It was probably just easier to do it that way, besides, I was curious to meet his parents. How did they deal with the great Sherlock Holmes?

I decided to visit John quickly before going over though, Sherlock thankfully had gone straight home; John laughed when I lamented to him about his project. "He's not that bad you know,"

"Yes he is! I still don't like him."

"He'll get better, maybe."

"Improbable."

"True, still you might be able to change him, I'd like to see that."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Perhaps, though it's a nearly impossible one. Change Sherlock Holmes, what's next, me winning the lottery?"

"The lottery thing might be actually more likely."

"Probably, still I think this is going to be interesting." I rolled my eyes.

"You make this seem like a drama."

"Well, isn't a bit dramatic? What would you call it?"

"Torture." I said, and John laughed some more.

XXX

Sherlock's house on the inside was surprisingly average looking, almost too ordinary, too be honest I always am shocked when I see something ordinary paired with Sherlock's life, and it makes me wonder even more how he's so not ordinary when everything in his life just seems ordinary like mine. Sherlock's house was rather small though, but perhaps that was just the clutter. Books upon books were everywhere, and I could see where Sherlock might get his intelligence from. The books weren't just stories either, they were dictionaries, encyclopaedias, filled to the brim just with knowledge. Also across the room were little marks of my guess of Sherlock's previous experiments, black marks on the walls, a dent here and there. All cleverly hidden mind you, so hidden you wouldn't even notice unless you look for them.

Sherlock's parents were perhaps the most surprising though, I guess I had always pictured them to be more like Sherlock. Very smart but in a cold way, calculated, almost calloused but they were by far the opposite, being by far the warmest and most kindest people, reminding me a lot of John's mother. I was then convinced the Sherlock must have been adopted, they didn't even look like Sherlock at all. Neither of them were really that above average height if they were, and they definitely weren't freakishly skinny at all; the closest resemblance I could get was that Sherlock's dad had a hooked nose, but even their hair and eye colour didn't match, both of them being blonde and having brown and green eyes compared to Sherlock's icy blue. Yes, Sherlock must be adopted, it would explain a lot. Certainly he couldn't be related to those warm and kind people, and if he was I really don't know what happened to him then.

I didn't have that long to look in Sherlock's living room though, as soon as I entered the door Sherlock practically pulled me across the hallway by his hand, slamming the door when I entered the room. I could hear his mother call out in dismay, and I couldn't help but feel annoyed as Sherlock just rolled his eyes at it. He then opened the door only a moment later, to which his mother was standing out at it, an annoyed look on her face to match.

"Mother this is Hermione, and no she's not a friend or something ridiculous like that. She's just working on the project with me so please don't bring the tea kit, besides the tea's going to boil over at this rate. And please don't bother me as it's rather pointless." he then slammed the door and it took all my willpower to not yell at him. If I hadn't known him better I would have, but I knew no reasoning was going to do any good with him, and it still wouldn't prove a point in the end. It still might make me feel better to yell at him though, certainly get off some steam.

"Do you have to treat her like that, she's your mother after all?"

"Well I didn't choose to be her son." he said bitterly, I still bit back my tongue, as if we had a choice in this world on things like that.

To keep myself from screaming at him I began to look around his room, which was what more or less I expected of him. The room was completely dedicated to science and all things academic, on his walls were large posters of scientists and periodic tables, which were covered by notes Sherlock had tacked onto the wall, his writing ever so neatly scrawled onto the paper. Books laid on the ground around the floor haphazardly and other papers pens and even test tubes were scattered across his room, little tid bits of information about Sherlock, almost as if Sherlock was a room this was how I would picture it. Of course that was the only unifying factor in his room though, the place was rather messy but it was in its own way, as if it was really organised it wouldn't be Sherlock's room any more, there was almost an underlying neatness in all of the mess.

He spun around in his chair, not looking at me. "Seeming as you're the one who actually seems to care about this project, what will you be doing?"

"What will I be doing? This is a team effort Sherlock."

"Ah the word team, a word of old english origin meaning a draft of animals. I humans are animals though in the end, all of us rather act like it."

"I didn't think you would be so philosophical." I said sarcastically.

"Well teamwork is pointless anyways, besides I think you could do the whole project by yourself and both get an A for us. I'm too dumb for this kind of this, right Miss Granger?"

"who's to say that I'm going to do it?"

"You are, you care far too much about your grades, whereas I don't." he said and turned around to his desk, getting onto his computer.

I looked over his shoulder, on his computer he was looking at horrible images. Bloody heads, sharp knives, bullets and guns all popped up on his computer, he looked at them dully though as if used to it all; as if it was just weather forecasts. No wonder he was so desensitized, seeing all the things he looked at. It was a wonder really that people didn't consider him a psychopath or something crazy like that. He continued scrolling through articles about it, paying no mind to me, though he did seem a bit agitated as I took in a little gasp for every bloody corpse he looked at. I couldn't help it though, it wasn't like I was used to seeing that, much less actually someone looking it up purposefully.

"Don't even bother to ask, I don't want my mother to be in hysterics about this again." he said. I don't know why but the way he said his mother's name I made me full of annoyance and I did the exact opposite of what he said.

"Oh Locks! Please stop looking at that it's much too horrid!" his mother was in the room then as quick as wink.

"What's going on here?" his mother asked, eyeing Sherlock suspiciously. Sherlock then did a quick few taps on his computer and unfortunately acted as the perfect actor.

He looked over at me, giving me a stare that could scare death itself before saying innocently. "Hermione and I were simply looking at pictures at worms, she really doesn't like bugs, and she got a bit squeamish." I looked over at his computer screen shocked. What once were bloody heads were now diagrams of worms; and replacing the guns and knives were pictures of different kinds of dirt.

His mother still eyeing him suspiciously, shook her head. "Be nice to Hermione, Sherlock." He put on his then most innocent face. "Yes mother." he said and she left the room, him closing the door behind her.

He then turned to me, back to his cold, calloused self. "Locks really? I'd think you'd be a bit creative." he said sarcastically.

"Well it's the first thing I could come up with, and besides it wasn't my fault you were looking at those bloody pictures."

"It's not like I'm the one who murdered them. Besides, why did you try to drag my mother into this?"

"So they really don't know?"

"For all they know I'm just looking up experiments on this computer. My parents wouldn't understand anyways, no one does. Not even you, I can tell you don't understand it so there's no point in trying to explain it to you. My parents are too awfully normal to understand anything I do now anyways, it's no point in telling them. I really do hate that nickname though, it sounds like a girl dog's name." he said distastefully.

"Well I like it then, so Locks, what are you doing?" He gave a stone hard look but didn't say anything, the screen being switched back to the original photos now, he muttered something under his breath.

"What did you say?" I asked.

"I said you were a lunatic that was highly delusional."

"Says the person looking at maggots in someone's face."

"Two week old maggots." He corrected, saying it as if it just was the weather.

"Why do you even look at that stuff?" I asked. He sighed.

"Just sit down."

"What?"

"Just sit down and I'll explain it all." he said, rather irritated. I sat down on his bed, not because I liked being commanded by Sherlock or anything but I was curious,

"Picture the scene, a group of twelve year olds are going on a field trip to the museum. It's during school ours so it's not busy or anything, there are forty students and only two teachers, far too many students to keep an eye on at once. Three boys decide to break away from the group, using the excuse of having to go to the bathroom. They then go outside, goof off a bit, before returning for lunch, except one boy doesn't return. The teachers soon realise this and look for him, and find him dead in a river, having been drowned. There was no seemingly sign of foul play, the only unusual thing was that his trainers were missing from him, how did he die?"

"Simple, he probably fell in and just drowned."

"Where did his trainers go?"

"They just fell off, maybe washed downstream a bit."

"That's where you're wrong, the trainers were made of rubber, they would have floated but there were no signs of trainers a mile in distance between the body. They seemed to have disappeared."

"It was just an accident, right?"

"That's what everyone thinks." He smiled almost giddy like, as if a child on Christmas.

"Well it looks interesting, could I help?" He then turned to me and looked at me in utmost bewilderment, and then scoffed at me.

"You? Why on bloody earth would I need your help?"

"Because one, I could be of help and help you solve it quicker and two, if you don't I could tell your parents some very interesting information."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me." I suddenly widened my eyes in fear. "Sherlock no, Sherlock this is much too horrific! It's a- It's a- worm!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

Mrs. Holmes came barging into to the room, a look of fury etched onto her face, while she yelled at Sherlock I quietly slipped out of the room, hearing only the beginning of the conversation of her yelling. "Sherlock Janene Holmes!"

I didn't honestly know which was more amusing, that Sherlock Holmes middle name was Janene or picturing the look of embarrassment and horror on his face as he found out he knew his middle name. Oh, this could be very useful to me. I ran out of the house but not before hearing a certain someone screaming my name.

"Hermione!"

XXX

 **Author's Note**

So that's that! I hope I didn't make Sherlock too mean in this chapter, Hermione seemed a little more too, I liked the real introduction of Mrs. Holmes though, she'll play a bigger role as we move along, though I don't think I'm going to mention Sherlock's dad as much. Anyways, please review and enjoy!


	7. The Book Report

**Author's Note**

I do not own Sherlock Holmes or Harry Potter as first off I'm not even British enough to do so :(

 **Chapter 6. The Book Report**

 **Sherlock POV**

Hermione came over after school today, which was a bit surprising to say the least. It wasn't that she hadn't come over my house before, but she usually did it on the weekends, or later in the afternoon because she always did her homework first, as she said it was her 'priority' before anything else.

She came probably at the worst time too, I was still working on the case with the drowning boy. Even with Hermione's help the case was stagnant, we hadn't made any real progress on any of it. My room because of the case had become a mess, every clue, or any piece of evidence I had scrapped onto the well with tacs, connecting them with strings to the main point, but still no solution showed. My parents of course were probably suspicious about it but didn't ask, probably assuming it was some silly school project or on the lines of that. After all, what eight year old tries to solve a murder?

I looked at my wall, frustrated. I had too many pieces of evidence, and at the same time not enough. I probably had too much irrelevant information in it but the problem was I didn't know which ones were useful or not, and I still didn't have enough because I couldn't see the big or real picture. It was rather frustrating now, and staring at all of it certainly didn't help.

Hermione then entered, "Any luck?" she asked.

"It makes so sense, the boy wasn't attacked or anything, he might have been pushed but even then the current wasn't even strong and he's known was a champion swimmer at his school, what could have killed him?"

"Locks we need to our book report." she suddenly said.

"Yeah, I'll do it tomorrow," I said irritably, still focused on the case.

"Locks it's DUE tomorrow." she said, rather annoyed. I turned to look at her and see the book she had been carrying in her book bag.

"Hm, I still hate that nickname you know. "

"Well I like it, now can we actually start on it?"

"but this is important Hermione-" I began,

"And this grade is important!" I rolled my eyes at that, didn't she understand how urgent this case was to me? Besides grades were just letters, and could be made up, this was an opportunity of a lifetime.

She glared at me though until finally I said that I would do it.

"And we're doing it at my house." she said.

"What? Why?"

"Because they're too many distractions for you to do, especially with this case and your computer here. I need all of your focused attention, or at least more of it." I groaned.

"Come on!" she said and began to drag me out the door.

XXX

Personally I never liked visiting new houses, or people. I didn't do it often, most likely I was dragged there due to my parents wanting to go to one party or another and me being forced to as I was too young to stay home alone and Mycroft not being there. The parties at my parents so called 'friends' house were pointless anyways, as I was scrapped at the kids table and put with a bunch of whining four year olds who would colour on the table and me have to force myself to smile, because it was apparently the polite to do; to top it off I couldn't bring any of my experiments and so I was always bored out my mind, I still never got the point of attending these. I swore when I grew up I'd never have stupid parties like that, especially if I ever did have children, I wouldn't want them to be bored out of their minds.

The only other house besides my own I was really comfortable with was John's and that's because John's family was practically like my family and vice versa, we both spent time at each other's houses so much it all rather blurred together. I had never gone to any other house by choice, since I usually never had a true friend, so going to Hermione's house seemed daunting, to say the least.

I stood a while out in the door way while Hermione entered, talking to her parents, from the windows on the side of her door I could see her living room, it looked nice enough, it looked more like a library though than an actual living room though. On the walls as far as I could see there were shelves upon shelves built into the wall, filled to the brim with the books. They weren't small kids books either, they were large ones with strange titles like Lord of the Rings, or Pride and Prejudice, older books I've never heard of before. The only other thing in the living room though, were rather large and comfy looking couches, that laid all around the room by the main fireplace in the centre of the wall, crackling brightly. No wonder Hermione read so much, I wondered how many were hers actually and her parents, it was probably a mix of both.

She then opened the door. "You can come in you know, but take your shoes off at the door way." she said. I quickly, entered, taking off my shoes and went into her living room.

Hermione's mother soon came in to greet us. She was a rather mousy lady, not at all in personality of that to Hermione, seeming much more reserved and quiet. She had the same colour hair as Hermione (a dark almost chocolate brown) but it was straight, and cut rather short. She also had most noticeably sharp cheekbones and a pointed nose. She seemed seemingly nice enough to me, though seemed a bit shocked by my presence itself, or rather my attire. I don't know why she was so shocked by dressing, it wasn't like I was wearing a large hat with a moose on it or anything. I suppose I could have worn something a bit nicer, but I still don't know why my winter coat was so shocking or anything.

She soon snapped out of it when she saw Hermione's gaze at her, and snapped back, smiling politely like all parents do to you. To be honest I always hated that smile, it made me feel so much inferior to them, as if they had to water down and baby things to me, because of my age. "Sherlock, it's a pleasure to meet you, Hermione has talked a lot about you." I then feigned surprise, and looked over to Hermione, I don't know who she was madder at, me or her mother. Her eyes glared at me, shooting daggers.

"What did she say?" I asked, faking innocent curiosity.

"Well nice things now, though initially she did call you a stupid little git."

"well he is still a git." Retorted Hermione.

"Yes, yes." her mother said, a ghost of a smile on her face.

"Well I'll be off in the kitchen, do you want anything love?" she asked.

"No thanks, I'm good." she said, and with a quick nod and a smile, she left for the kitchen.

"Stupid little git? Is that best you can call me?" I taunted.

"Shut up Locks."

XXX

After an hour of trying to work on the project I finally gave up. I wasn't that I wasn't trying or anything but it was just so BORING, I didn't know how anyone thought reading was fun if it was like this. Why would anyone read if it was just this boring, for fun? I still didn't get the point in this too, I mean really, there would be no point in my life where I would be asked to write a summary of a book. If the teacher so desperately wanted to find out what the book was like she could always just read the back of it, honestly it was just pointless to do this. I mean honestly, it wasn't like cancer was being solved by my reading this stupid kid's book.

"Complain a bit louder," Hermione said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Well sorry that this book is so stupid." I replied. We were doing it over Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, after debating over several books we had finally decided on that one due to it being one of the few books I had read before, seeing as my mother used to read it to me when I was little.

"I rather like the book." Hermione replied.

"Yes, what a lovely children's book about a child being manipulated by an adult psychopath who kills children and turns them to candy, and then decides to hand over the business to an inexperienced eleven year old boy. Lovely."

"Well when you put it like that." she said crossly. I sat up, from the couch.

She sighed. "Let's take a break, maybe watch a movie or something." To this I groaned even louder.

I never got the point of watching movies either, probably being the only other thing I found pointless besides doing this project. If movies perhaps were interesting I would watch them, but they were basically all the same, there was never anything new or exciting about them. I could basically tell a movie's whole plot by watching it for ten minutes at the most. It was always the same no matter what era or genre, some hero somehow likeable, has to defeat some villain somehow, makes a small team, trains or learns something, then defeats villain. If we're lucky we learn a lesson of two somehow in the story. If there was a plot twist even its obvious, they lay the clues as if wanting you to know its going to change. Maybe if I was stupid or at least of average intelligence I might like movies more, but I wasn't. To me I think they were invented solely to be fillers, things to distract people while you're working on something, and as an added bonus you get pay from it. Rather pointless waste of money too, if you asked me.

"I didn't even suggest anything." she said.

"It doesn't matter, all movies are stupid. I can't stand them, they're all so dull."

"How can you hate movies?" she asked, a look of shock on her face. What did she expect, did she actually think I would like them or something, she must be delusional.

"They're just so boring because they're so predictable, they're basically the same thing over and over."

"Not all movies are like that, let's watch Charlie and the Chocolate Factory."

"Well if I don't have to work on the project, then fine. But I'm still not going to like it." I said. The movie like all movies turned out to be complete rubbish though, just as I had suspected.

This is basically how the movie went:

First we saw the little crooked house and the poor little family of Charlie, who I'm supposed to take pity on, because he's so poor he doesn't even get to eat food or have a warm house. Yet, he can afford school supplies, half decent clothes, and going to school.

golden ticket announcement scene: We meet Willy Wonka the psychopath, who is choosing the fate of his multi million company in the hands of chocolate bars, which most likely children will get. He is resting his whole entire fate and legacy on luck and chocolate, assuming that these chocolate bars won't be lost or thrown away or be given to horrible children who don't know how to run a company, oh wait that did happen in the movie.

(the boy buys a random chocolate bar): The boy is an idiot, he spends all his money for one year on a chocolate bar, why doesn't he do it on something useful or save the money so when they actually need it, so that he can buy clothes or whatnot. Seriously, he spent his entire year's worth on a piece of chocolate?

(Boy finds the golden ticket): Oh, and suddenly by fate he has the golden ticket, out of the hundreds of children in London he just happened to spend his one money on that? The probability isn't that even high, it's ridiculous. Also, why are these adults flocking him for it, are they seriously bribing a child for a piece of golden paper to see a psychopath, he should honestly just sell the ticket, it would be a better investment, honestly.

(grandpa dancing): Oh and now Christmas miracles because suddenly now, this man who has been bedridden at least for a decade can suddenly not only move and walk, but can dance a rather choreographed dance just because his child got a ticket by luck? Hooray.

(going to the chocolate factory:Does nobody else see it, Willy Wonka is practically screaming psychopath. I mean he has been isolated for at least a year mysteriously, hasn't gone out for god's knows how long, and been doing some mysterious things, and then suddenly he sends out these invitations to go inside his warehouse with no explanation or reason, and people just willingly do it, without batting an eye? He could possibly murder them and no one would notice. As for the children he chose, the first one has a severe addiction to his chocolate, I'm surprised his parents haven't sued him for the amount he eats, he most likely will have a heart attack later in life at this rate. The second boy has a severe addiction to electronics, and his parents probably neglect him so he plays all these games, going to end up with later problems in life. The third girl chewing the gum has low self esteem and probably peer pressure issues, forcing her to do all these competitions and what not. Finally the girl in the dress is just a straight up brat who has a probably form of narcissism. Charlie and his family aren't just the only nice ones in the movie, they're the only sane ones for crying out loud!

(signing of the papers): And no is still worried at this tour they have to sign this paper, no one? I mean really, this is just a major red flag but of course, they just want to go.

(Candy room): First off, why does a grown man who lives alone have a candy room? Also, how is the candy not melting, isn't it hot in there to make it? Why are the eating the candy, they don't even know where its from, it could be a year old, or poisoned for all they know. They also have been walking, do they not realise how dirty it is to eat all that stuff?

(Boy drowning): Of course no one's going to save him, murder one for Willy Wonka. And of course everyone just continues to go with him willingly.

(oompa Loompas singing): Do these things actually understand english, why are they singing, where did he even get these from? Are they considered human or are they some humanoid candy things Wonka made? I mean seriously, were they captured experiments he made or something, they don't look human at all. Plus seriously where did they have time to make a perfectly choreographed song, and why are their voices so low? This is actually pretty creepy, how does this movie pass as a kid's movie?

(riding in the boat): I swear, Willy Wonka is just delusional, why does he even have that, what the heck is wrong with his mind? Has living alone isolated make him slowly become crazy, and why do the oompa loompas seem used to this?

I don't remember the movie much after that, I think I must have fallen asleep after watching it. I woke up again though by Mrs Granger, the movie being completely done.

"Sherlock, I think it's time for you to go home." said Mrs. Granger sweetly.

"Do you want me to walk you home, it is rather dark." she said.

"No, I think I'm fine. Thank-you though, bye Hermione." I said.

"Bye Sherlock." she replied sleepily.

She then sat up and smirked at me. "By the way Locks, you snore."

"I do not."

"Do too" she said and laughed when she saw my face was flushed pink. I don't even know why I was blushing, I mean I felt embarrassed but I shouldn't be right? I mean I don't snore so there's nothing to be embarrassed about but I still was. I soon left the house in the cold night and for some reason I couldn't help but smile.

XXX

 **Author's Note**

That was probably one of the more fluffy pieces I wrote, even as a kid I found Charlie and the Chocolate Factory a bit disturbing, probably more disturbing is the fact is that it's a 'kids' movie. Still I rather liked this piece, even though it really had nothing to due with the plot, and it was especially fun to see how Sherlock reacted to this. But from now on if I have more pieces like this in the future I'm marking this with an * so you can tell if you really don't like the fluffy stuff as much. Anyways, thank you for all who read this!


	8. Egg Throwers

**Author's Note**

I don't own any of the Sherlock or Harry Potter Franchise *duh*

 **Chapter 8. Egg Thrower**

 **Hermione POV**

Today was just another awful day it seemed, and by the end of it I was just awfully annoyed at everything. We ended up (unsurprisingly) getting an F on the paper which my parents ended up being livid about. I of course was mad at that, and mad at Sherlock, but what made me more angered was that we actually had to stay behind at school and get these permission forms to sign with our parents, promising that we would never do it again. Sherlock despite me yelling at him all the way to his house did not care the least, and he got the form easily signed, though he might have just copied his mothers handwriting.

My parents were quite a different story though, and after what seemed like an eternity of yelling, trying to explain that while I had been a bit lazy it was also my partner's fault who also slacked off and never was the most hardworking on book reports, they finally gave up and settled on a punishment for me. The punishment was the worst, I was grounded from reading anything that wasn't for school, which meant I was often bored in my house. This didn't meant I didn't read on my own though, I just brought the books for school and went to Sherlock's house every now and then, at least I wasn't prohibited from going to his house. I was in fact going to Sherlock's house to read when I saw his house up in smoke, and nearly on fire.

At first I noticed the difference when I went down from the street, you could see the smoke even then from the distance, but I didn't think much, it was a foggy day after all, so I used to the usual smoke and haze surrounding the neighbourhood. As I got closer though I stopped dead in my tracks, fog wasn't surrounding the house, smoke was. Smoke billowed from the house, it came out the windows, the chimney, and even some from the closed door; the haze of grey surrounding the Holme's home. As I got closer I realised that most of the smog was coming from the far right, Sherlock's bedroom. Mrs and Mr Holmes soon came running out the house, coughing and gagging, I waited anxiously for Sherlock to follow. After not seeing him though for ten minutes, and realising the firemen wouldn't get here in time, I ran into the house, straight to his room, which I thought was the source of the fire, or so I thought was fire.

In hindsight it was probably best that it wasn't fire, because both of us then would have been seriously injured and I wasn't equipped at all for going and rushing into a fire at all. Still I was stupid, thinking I could save him somehow, but when I opened the door I saw a very different explanation. I opened the door, only to see Sherlock with a blow torch in his hand, his face was ashen of course, but he was wearing goggles and seemed perfectly unperturbed, not realising how much of a stir he had caused in the neighbourhood, even when he saw me, with my wild mane of hair and furious eyes he seemed rather calm, taking off his goggles and smirking at me, the nerve he had.

"Hello Hermione, you rather do have a flair for the dramatic I suppose," he said, and continued on burning the sphere he had in his hands, which he held by pliers. I was so furious at the time with him, I didn't even know how he had a blow torch but to make me worry like that and then blow this off as nothing? I took off his stupid googles he was wearing, and slapped a very surprised and annoyed Sherlock.

"Ow, what was bloody that for?" He rubbed his cheek, though I knew he was being dramatic.

"Oh my god do you realised how much danger you potentially put, your parents bloody called the fire department!"

"It wouldn't be the first time, at least I didn't start an actual fire."

"I don't care about that! Not only did you endanger your parent's lives, you also made us worried sick probably when you didn't come out of the house, and I don't care if this was just for some stupid experiment Sherlock Holmes, next time smoke is coming out of the house you get out of the house. Don't ever make people worry about you like that, no matter what you say, your parents and I do care about your well being and prefer you not on fire!"

"You were worried? Why would you be though, why would you care?" Before I could answer this though his parents had come back into the house, most of the smoke had cleared now that sherlock had stopped using the blowtorch; and this resulted in the usual eye rolling, yelling, and promises that Sherlock made that we all knew he was bound to break one time or another.

After his parents had left the room he began to use the blow torch again, smoke starting to billow in the room. "What are you doing, are you trying to alert the fire department again?" I asked, coughing every now and then.

I scanned the room quickly, making sure there was no other damage besides the smoke coming out the house, in the left corner near his trash bin was a discarded cardboard box which probably explained the new chemistry set and all the new test tubes he had, after all he had said he was getting a new chemistry set soon. Balloons laid everywhere on the floor, though they were broken and somehow been used one way or another, and to top it off an odd stench of onions and almost skunk filled the air, which I hadn't noticed immediately as I had been so angry, but now did and felt like I nearly wanted to puke. I didn't know how sherlock could stand this, it was repulsive in there.

"Couldn't you do this outside, it smells awful in here." He then turned to me. "No, that would miss the whole point, now hand me some matches, would you?"

"I don't think this is child safe."

"Of course its not, what do I do that is though?"

"Now if you will excuse me, get out!" He then rather abruptly shoved me out of his room, slamming the door and locking it when I finally went out. I would have stormed out of the house immediately if this was the first time he had done it, unfortunately it wasn't. Besides, I was a bit afraid of Sherlock's well being right now and I still I had no clue what he was concocting in that lab of his.

He then came out after five minutes, I tried to listen to what he was doing but only could hear him muttering under his breath. When he finally did come out though he was carrying a rather large bucket. When I peaked over his shoulder to have a better look I saw many assorted, colourful balloons, and a lot too, at least five different types and each at least had five or six of each. "What are you doing with those balloons?"

"Not just any ordinary balloons," smirking when he saw my face. "These balloons are mixed with ammonia, matches, and paint."

"So paint stink bombs." I said. He nodded and grinned mischievously.

"But why would you make them?" He shrugged.

"It might come in handy later, besides, it's an experiment anyways."

I shook my head confused, he almost looked child like now, almost acting like a regular boy in school. Of course regular boys didn't make the bombs like this and nearly set fire to the house but the way he looked and acted, it made him seem his true age and made me remember that he was just the same age as me, something I forgot when I hung around him. He almost seemed innocent and happy, it was good to see him like that, but it as odd, and I knew it wouldn't last. These things never lasted in the long run, so I guess I would have to stop worrying about it and enjoy the moment.

"Anyways, we have to test them though, come on." he said, and I followed him outside, right behind John's house.

He then looked at me. "Quick, throw them."

"What?"

"Throw them at the house,"

"I heard that, but what exactly are we doing throwing it here?"

He just rolled his eyes at me. "John's going to hear us any second now, if you're not going to throw it first I will." he said, picking up a blue one and throwing it at the house. It let out a loud whack, and exploded on the back wall, colouring the house a rather navy blue and letting off the putrid stench that was in Sherlock's room.

I looked at him, my eyes wide. "Won't we get in trouble?"

"Probably, but this isn't the worst thing I've done to their house." I then picked up a yellow one and it made another splat, colouring that part a rather bright canary yellow. We then kept throwing until we had about fifteen left until John finally showed up to see what the ruckus was about. We then both hid behind a bush, or at least I did, and we were fine until Sherlock decided to throw an orange one, hitting John straight on and making him look like a rather unhappy carrot.

For a moment he just stood there in shock, and then the smell hit him, nearly puking. Pretty soon after he noticed us laughing about it behind the bush, seeing both of our trademark curly hair. "Sherlock!" He yelled, grabbing the hose and spraying us, getting us both absolutely soaked. We both laughed even louder now, coming out from the bush, armed with stink bombs.

We ran around in the back yard, both of us throwing stink bombs at John and the house, John only got madder it seemed and began to chase us, spraying us down with the hose, though he was laughing too. By the end the air smelled with a mix of the rotten skunk smell and the foggy air, the ground, John, and even us were in an array of colors all blended together. We were all laughing and trying to catch our breath, especially John who looked like a rainbow had barfed all over him.

"You know your mom is going to kill you right?" John asked Sherlock.

"Probably, but the paint is washable and should come off with that hose."

"This stuff reeks, what did you put in to those balloons?"

"Cat barf and dog poop." Sherlock said. John then nearly puked, going back inside to probably do so.

"He actually believed you?" I asked.

Sherlock shrugged. "It's not the craziest thing I've done, if anything it's plausible." He grinned.

And despite the horrible day, nearly thinking Sherlock was in a fire, soaking wet and freezing in the middle of fall, stinking as much as skunk. I couldn't help but look at all of this that Sherlock and I had created, and seemingly smile at it.

XXX

 **Author's Note**

Another more fluffy one, I really enjoy writing them but I think this one actually had to do more with the plot and character development of them. I rather do like where they are heading, it's much easier to write them liking each other, begrudgingly liking each other but still liking each other. Anyways, thank you all for those who read it and please review!


	9. Halloween Parties

**Author's Note**

I do not own the Harry Potter or Sherlock franchise, as both have them been around longer than my existence.

 **Chapter 9. Halloween Parties**

 **Hermione POV**

Charlotte by far was the most popular girl not only in our class, but in our grade and maybe even the whole school. Practically everyone knew her, and I had guessed immediately from the start that she was. It mean it was pretty obvious, she was super pretty, I mean I wasn't exactly ugly but compared to her she was the princess in the story while I was the evil hag. For one she was super tall, even taller than Sherlock, and she was sleek and thin like a model, if anything to me she was if she was an animal a minx, long and sleek, a bit vain but could get away with it due to their beauty.

She had long wavy, blonde hair, and while it did have curls like mine hers were tamed and seemed natural, as if they wanted to listen and cope with her, and fit her princess look all the more. Her teeth were also perfectly sized and straight, unlike my rather large buck teeth which I never really showed. She had bright green eyes that were almost a jade colour and two dimples which made her seem child like and innocent, like a cupid or even an angel.

So it was a surprise to say the least when she invited me to her halloween party. I mean I wasn't rude to her or anything, but I also hadn't really talked to her at all during this whole school year. Sure she would be nice if I liked asked for a pencil or something and she wasn't rude to me or anything, but really we had never ever talked, and had absolutely no reason to like me. I never really talked to her or any of her friends, mainly because we had different interests. I knew for sure she wasn't all that invested into academics at all and I knew nothing about makeup or anything of that sort. It's not like we weren't nice or mean to each other, we just had very different passions or likes.

Truth be told I had never talked to anyone really besides Sherlock that closely. I mean sure, I was nice to everyone (or at least I tried to be) but ever since I started to hang out with Sherlock more and people began to realise this, I began to become more isolated from them. It was if Sherlock was some disease or something, and whoever hung out with him might catch it. I don't know if Sherlock ever realised this, it was sometimes hard to see what Sherlock knew or not in terms of social things, but I certainly noticed it more or less. It was fine by me I guess, just sometimes it got a bit lonely when your only friend was Sherlock. There were of course a few people who didn't do this, like Lestrarde and Molly Hooper, Molly Hooper was in fact the only girl who didn't do it, and she was in fact the closest friend I had besides Sherlock. But other than those two I really had no one, and sometimes that bothered me, but I don't know why.

So when I did get the invitation I was super excited, but the only problem was that it was (obviously) on the night of Halloween and the party had apparently a strict no costume thing so my costume was now a complete waste. The other problem with this was the date, it was the night I was supposed to be going trick or treating with Sherlock, we had been planning weeks for this. I was going of course as peter pan and Sherlock was going as Captain Hook (which he had been annoyed at first by but I think now rather liked).

Truth be told at first Sherlock at all rather hated the idea, apparently he had stopped trick or treating when he was five, calling the holiday an excuse to give candy to children and that it promoted taking food from strangers you didn't even know and dressing up to do it, or a robbery. It had taken even a full week of arguments and persuasion before he finally agreed to go with me just around the neighbourhood, and even the he had been rather unhappy about it. Now though he seemed to like it much more, lighting up when we talked about, like he did when we were doing the murder case. His mother was rather happy about it too, I think she rather enjoyed seeing this side of Sherlock, and helped us both with our costumes. I really didn't know how to break the news to Sherlock, he had just been so stoked about it, we both had been, but I really wanted to go to this party. I still didn't want to hurt his feelings though, which is probably why I delayed telling him before the day of the halloween party.

I went into his room, as usual he was on his computer. "Hey Hermione, excited for tomorrow?" he asked, not even turning around.

"How did you know-"

"You always scuffle your feet before you enter," he said. I sat down on his bed.

"Listen Locks-"

"Before you say anything take a look at these." he said and pulled out two bags from under his table. He had obviously made them, telling from the loopy and neat writing he had put on each bag.

"I made them last night, these bags can hold three times the amount of the other halloween baskets you were going to use." he said,

"After all, you were going to get my candy." he said and frowned slightly when he saw the look on my face.

"Are you all right?" he asked,

"Just a bit tired." I lied.

"Are you sick?" He asked, reaching over to touch my forehead. I swatted his hand away.

"No I'm not sick! I just can't go trick or treating with you because I got invited to a party!" I screamed, he backed off immediately.

"Who's party?" He asked.

"Charlottes," I said. "The tall girl with the wavy hair." I added when he didn't respond.

"Oh." he said. he then snatched the bags on the bed and threw them into the trash, and shoved me out of the room, slamming the door just as I left.

"Sherlock!" I yelled, banging on the door, but I knew it was pointless to do so. Mrs. Holmes then heard me yelling at the door and came over.

"Oh, don't worry about it Hermione, he's probably just in one of his black moods. Best not to visit him right now though, he'll probably be in a better mood tomorrow, best to talk to him then. I'll try to coax him in a better mood tonight, but it's best you be off at home." I smiled at her and thanked her, before leaving the house, feeling in a more awful mood.

XXX

 **Sherlock POV**

I couldn't believe she was going to that crazy witch's party, and ditching me for her. I mean she never really hung out with her and talked with her, I don't even know why she was going to that stupid party, it wasn't like she was exactly the most social or anything. Maybe she wanted to make a friend or something, that was a bunch of rubbish though, why would she try to be friends with her? Both of them were complete opposites, they literally had no common interests at all.

I didn't even care that I wouldn't have to go, in fact I was rather glad. I was only going in fact because Hermione wanted me to, thinking it would be fun or something. This was all Hermione's idea and if she wasn't going then I wouldn't either, it was pointless to do this, I was only doing it for her.

Mother tried to talk to me, I had heard her in the door, what did they think, I was deaf? I didn't listen though and finally after an hour of talking she finally gave up, though not before mentioning I should apologise to her. Why would I apologise to her, I didn't do anything wrong. If anything she did, she's the one who ditched me for that witch, and didn't even tell me until just now. I couldn't believe the nerve she had, everything just made me seemingly more angry the more I thought about the incident. No I wouldn't apologise to her, especially since I wasn't wrong.

XXX

 **Hermione POV**

I felt rather guilty about it, though I didn't know why. It wasn't that big of a deal I reminded myself. I was just going to a party, and if he hadn't stormed off so quickly and shoved me out I might have even offered just to go trick or treating in the beginning, so I could go to the party just later in the night. He had stormed off though and so I guess I wouldn't be doing that. He wasn't in a better mood the next day, if anything it almost seemed worse. Whatever his mother had tried to say to him had proved pointless, and I already knew it would be. He completely ignored me the whole day, and even the teacher noticed this change.

Didn't Sherlock know how much this party meant to me? It was already bad enough that I had been the new kid, and while Sherlock was great and all I wanted someone other friends than him, preferably some that were girls. In my old school I had a lot more friends, I wasn't popular or anything, but I did have three or four good friends. It seemed things were simpler then, we just talked about normal stuff, not anything scientific or discoveries or anything academic. While I loved those things, it got a bit tiring. I guess I just wanted a simpler friend, a more normal one.

I arrived at Charlottes party a little late, I had tried to talk to Sherlock but he was already slammed into his room. I had changed from my school clothes to an old black dress, it used to be a part of a witch's costume but since the dress alone wasn't technically a witch's outfit, I decided it would fit best. Even before it was dark Charlottes decorations were pretty cool, large pumpkins filled the yard along with fake graveyards and inflatable spiders. Cobwebs covered her house and witch statues stood in her front patio, cackling when you pushed a button. I ringed the doorbell which gave an eery shriek before Charlotte opened the door, the party soon starting in motion.

"Nice decorations." I commented.

"Oh these old things, they're nothing now, you should see them in the night." she said and smiled. She was wearing a rather large almost victorian dress that was white, and she would almost look like a ghost if it wasn't for the bright pink lipstick and dark eyeliner she was wearing. "Come on in, everyone has just started arriving." she said.

I looked around, the inside was even cooler, fog machines surrounded the ground giving it an eery smoky feeling. Music blasted through the walls of the house and people were dancing, laughing, and talking. There was a large food bar with creepy concoctions and other assortments of foods, most of all though was the cool lighting and decorations, each one seemingly new and exciting. I looked around to my relief that everyone wasn't in a costume and began to relax.

"Yeah, my dad does this party every year." she says, as I marveled around the room. She then grinned at me mischievously. "So how's the boyfriend?" she asked. I blushed, feeling a sinking feeling of guilt in my gut.

"He's not my boyfriend." I said.

"Sure." Charlotte said and laughed at my face which was probably red by now.

"I'm only teasing." she said, and left for the crowd. I stayed where we had been and watched everyone.

The party was surprisingly huge, I guess I had only suspected our grade to be here. Not only was most of our grade here, but also a lot of the younger grades above and below us, even a lot of teenagers had come to the party, each nodding and waving to Charlotte as she walked around. She must really be popular everywhere, as everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves and having all around a good time.

I still stood by the punch bowl though, I didn't really know that well the people in our grade, the only person in fact that was in our class was Jim and even now he still gave me the creeps for some odd reason. It's not like he had been rude to me or anything, it's just I guess how he acted. Jim though seemed to keep staring at me for at least five minutes, and smirked when I caught him looking at me. So it was great relief when Charlotte finally returned back to talk to me, and at the same time Jim began to talk to the other girls in our grade.

"So, what do you think?" she asked.

"This is amazing!" I said.

"Not about the party, about the people here."

"Well, um, I suppose they're nice."

"Hermione, let's have a real talk." She then sat me down and looked at me like she was the older sister giving advice to her naive younger sister.

"Hermione, I think you're pretty."

"Really?"

"Well perhaps it would do you some good to maybe straighten your hair or at least brush it and not smile so much but yeah." I then self consciously touched my rather large buck teeth.

"I'll tell you a secret, perhaps with a little bit of glamouring and hanging out less with that annoying prick Sherlock you could be super popular. I'll tell you, Jim over there," motioning her head towards him. "has a bit of a crush on you."

"Really?" I asked, well that might explain the staring at me.

"So what do you think?"

"Of what?" I asked, feigning innocence.

"Of him!"

"Well he is sorta cute," I lied. In truth I didn't know what to think, I barely even talked to him because he had always stared at me. Besides, what was I supposed to think because while I didn't want to be mean I certainly didn't like him at all.

"Should I go tell him that?" she asked.

"No!" I said. Then quickly added. "Besides I don't feel to well, I wasn't really feeling well all day. I think I should go home." I said, and doubled over in pain, pretending to be nauseous, which at the time wasn't that hard considering all that I had heard.

"Are you all right?" she asked, a look of concern on her face.

"Yeah, I just think I'll go home." I said, and hobbled out of the house, once out of the area running straight back home.

XXX

"Oh sorry to hear that the party was cancelled, love." Mom said as I lied to her what had happened. It's not that like I wanted to lie to my parents, I usually never do but it was too long to explain what had happened already and I really didn't even know even if I did have the time I could explain everything. The party had just made me realise something, that I was wrong, and I needed immediately to apologise to Sherlock.

"It's okay Mum, anyways I've got to go!" I said, sprinting out of the house in my Peter Pan costume, running straight to Sherlock Holme's house.

XXX

"Go away Mother, for the last bloody time I'm not going trick or treating!" He yelled when I knocked on his door. I had already tried to open it, and as usual it was locked.

"Well you shouldn't call trick or treating too stupid. After all, I'm already in my costume." I replied. He opened the door and looked at me before slamming it shut.

"Sherlock!"

"What are you doing here? Didn't you have that oh so great party with Carrie or something?"

"Her name is Charlotte."

"Whatever, it doesn't even matter, what's the point in you being here anyways, I'm through with you."

"Well unfortunately I have the stomach flu right now."

"Well then you should be back at home, not in that ridiculous outfit."

"Look, Locks, I'm sor-"

"Don't Locks me! My name is Sherlock, not Locks or anything other ridiculous name like that!"

"Fine, Sherlock I'm sorry!" I said, and I was beginning to tear up now.

"Then why did you abandon me for them?"

"I don't know, it seemed better at that time, Sherlock I was just so tired of being lonely, of people not talking to me because I talked to you."

"Hermione-"

"Look I realise though that it was my choice, and I can't just ditch you for someone else, even if you are a sometimes absolutely horrid, arrogant git, you are my friend so please open the door."

"Stop talking."

He then stepped out of his room, in his captain hook costume. "This outfit still looks ridiculous by the way" Before he could say anything else though I had hugged him so hard he fell to the ground.

XXX

 **Author's Note**

So sorry this is coming you to so late, life has gotten the best of me :(.

This was probably my favourite one to write, or at least one of the ones that spoke to me the most. Growing up I remember feeling like this a lot when I was younger and I knew for sure Hermione probably had it even worse than me, after all, sherlock isn't exactly popular. She is also more vulnerable for sure, and even in the Harry Potter books you can see her vulnerability, which is probably why so many people like her. This one for sure I think she learned her lesson, though you'll see how far she actually learned it in further episodes. Anyways, please review and thank you for all who read this!


	10. Tricks And Treats

**Author's Note**

I do own Sherlock and Harry Potter in another reality but sadly I am stuck in this one.

 **Chapter 10. Tricks and treats**

 **Sherlock POV**

"Sherlock Holmes for god's sake what is all this yelling about now-?" Then to my utmost embarrassment she stopped in her tracks when she saw, grinning almost as wide as the cheshire cat himself.

After what seemed a rather awkward eternity she finally spoke saying: "I see you're out of your room then." she then turned to Hermione and winked, as if they knew something I didn't. As if they had planned this whole thing, and for some sinking feeling I could almost feel as if did.

"You might as well get the camera out." I said, rolling my eyes at my mother's sheer obviousness. I didn't even have to look at her to know she was subconsciously looking over at the living room, where oh so conveniently the camera had been put out. I frowned even wider though at the thought of having photos; I had been truly hoping she wouldn't attempt to. If Mycroft saw this he would never let me live this down, to be honest I didn't know if even I could live this down. I was already trying to erase the memories as we spoke, and I didn't need any other obstacles at the moment. It was pointless to have these memories anyways, not to mention downright embarrassing and time consuming for my mental capacity.

I began to grimace and groan a little but promptly stopped when I saw Hermione's death glare towards me. I knew she hated it when I acted like this toward my mother, but I honestly didn't know why it bothered her so much. It wasn't her mother, and besides it wasn't my fault my mother acted like a complete dolt most of the time. I just didn't care for a photo and we all knew this yet she insisted on having one. Anyways, she quickly snapped the photos (neither of which I smiled in mind you) and beamed, though a small frown quickly covered my face when she saw my dour expression.

There is of course a reason there are few photos in my house of me or my brother past the age of four or five. The main reason being after those ages I stopped smiling in photos so much, and as mother liked to put it, I looked rather grumpy and not at all attractive. I didn't really care anymore, or if I ever did I don't now, because every instance of her taking a photo of me it had been pointless. Every instant she had tried it had been some dulling 'monumental moment' in my life that I was soon to forget anyways; most of the photos were just of menial things like school plays or other things where I always was in the background.

All these photos are of our 'normal lives', painting this image that I'm just a happy, normal, child, which I hate. I hate being painted as the normal child loved by all, this child everyone expects me to be. I hate how these pictures shows us as a normal family when everyone knows its a lie, that we're not that, but what bothers me most is my mother still tries when everyone else has seemingly given up on it. She still tries to make us normal, as if being us is wrong, she still makes us do those stupid plays, and encourages us to do normal child things, I hate that though. That's why I smile rarely in photos, because I rarely do what makes me happy anymore.

Anyways, mother barely has a say in anything as I am already practically bursting out the door, into the cool sunset night, adventure it seems are awaiting us.

XXX

We of course stop by John's house first as it is the closest one to us. His house of course is decorated in the usual cheery decorations. The large glowing pumpkins illuminate the front yard, The paper walls hung on the patio dance in the breeze, and even the large, gigantic Frankenstein towers over us, looking at ever trick or treater with its glowing green eyes.

Personally, I had always thought Halloween to be a stupid holiday, or any holiday really for that matter. I just found it pointless to decorate for one night only to be taken in a couple days time, and then be stored away in your attic for the rest of the year. I mean, what purpose was it to have these things? The fun of putting up decorations in the freezing cold, the power to boast your money or in other words 'spirit?' All of these things seemed stupid if not a big egoistical.

That's probably why we never decorated our lawn anyways for Halloween or really any holiday, even though we did own decorations. Mother may have control of the inside of the house, but for the outside she was powerless to do anything about it. It was too much work for her despite her being at home all the time, father worked even more than mother, and Mycroft and I saw no point in decoration, one of the few things we did agree on. Still I had to admit I did rather enjoy looking at John's decorations each year. There was almost a sense of warm familiarity seeing them. I had just become so accustomed to seeing them this night it would almost be wrong not to see them. Just them being missing would make the whole entire night off for some reason.

We stood on the patio for quite a while, Hermione lecturing me. "Now when they answer the doorbell you have to say trick or treat."

"Why do I have to do that?" I asked.

"Because it's the polite thing to do."

"No it's not, you're just asking for candy without saying please even."

"Well it's just tradition!"

"It's a stupid tradition."

"Well just say it!" she said, fully exasperated at my arguing. She then caught her breath and rang the doorbell.

John's older sister then opened the door, on her side was the large bowl full of sweets. Harriet was only fifteen but already towered over John and I even more so than most teenagers. She had John's cold, bluish grey eyes and almost button-like nose, but that's where the similarities ended. She was a lot more muscular than John even and certainly in personality much more exuberant and loud mouthed. In fact I had heard she was often referred to as the 'wild child' in the Watson's family, and I frankly couldn't blame them for such a title for her. She usually was never at the house though anyways, she was usually off partying with her friends, going to clubs and whatnot much to her parent's dismay. She was kindly to me though at least, and always helped me with things that even John wouldn't do, most of them in fact being quite troublemaking.

"Trick or treat!" Hermione Chirped happily.

"what she said." I said, trying to make my voice the most devoid of enthusiasm. Then much to my annoyance, Hermione squarely punched me in the shoulder.

"John your friends are here!" she said, yelling across the hallways before turning back to us.

"What are you two dressed up as?" she asked, eyeing me mischievously.

"I'm dressed up as Peter Pan!" Hermione exclaimed.

"And you?"

"I'll leave you to your own deductions." I said bitterly, wanting this small chat to be over, especially before John saw me. Harriet simply smiled though, as if she knew more to the situation than I did. John then popped up from under Harriet, smiling even more when he saw my ridiculous attire.

"I didn't know you trick or treated." John said, fully amused at the spectacle of me.

"I don't, she forced me to."

"I didn't force you! Besides, you were the one who chose the costumes!" she yelled.

"Well you couldn't make up your mind!" I exclaimed.

"Mind if I join you?" John asked.

"Actually, I do." I replied, turning to leave, but Hermione grabbed me by the collar.

"Be nice Sherlock!"

"What? He's not even into costume." I replied flatly. Much to my dismay though soon John came back, fully clothed in a Mr. Smee costume, with even a red bucket on his side just for good measure.

"Now can I go?" I turned to Hermione, who was again giving me the death glare.

"Fine, but don't do anything ridiculous like trying to speak in a pirate accent." I said.

"Aye Aye Captain!" John exclaimed, and I couldn't help but see Hermione smiling.

XXX

After a full hour of slow meandering and trudging throughout the night Hermione finally decided to turn back home, much to my relief and John's disappointment. Truthfully I was just glad to be going home, I was getting tired of lugging this large sack of sweets that I wasn't going to eat anyways, (though I wouldn't admit it) and I wanted to go back home and change, so I could pretend at least for the rest of the night that this embarrassing ordeal never happened.

As we were walking back though I suddenly noticed a running figure in the black darkness, coming towards us. At first I didn't notice him though due to the darkness, but not only that but because of his dark hair which matched perfectly into the night. It was even worse than my worst nightmare and dread began to fill me as I began to confirm who it really was. I would rather face zombies or even ghouls than him right now, and especially now in this ridiculous wear. I looked for places to hide, but unfortunately there were none as he came up to us and stopped when he saw us. It was none other than Jim Moriarty.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to keep my voice as cold as the night.

He then feigned innocence. "I was looking for Hermione, apparently she had gone home because of the stomach bug. I should be asking the same for yourself, especially since you are in the most utmost ridiculous wear I have ever seen, even for you I must add."

He then turned to look snidely at John. "Aren't you a bit old to be trick or treating? It's quite pathetic actually." John glared at him but Jim Moriarty of course didn't flinch, rather smirking when he saw John's expression upon his face. This only made John grimace even more, and I could see his fists were balled up behind his back.

He then turned to face Hermione: "What are you doing with these losers? I thought you were sick, are you okay?" he said, a look of almost genuine concern etched on his face, he could have fooled even me if I hadn't known better.

"Actually, I was just with Sherlock. We've been trick or treating all night." she said, smiling happily. She then grabbed my hand, much to my shocked expression, but not as shocked at Jim's which I smirked at when I saw his expression. He quickly composed, though I could see it had rattled him up.

"But why would you do it with them?" He asked.

"Because I made a promise to Sherlock, and besides look at these amazing costumes!" she said, smiling cheerily, though I could feel as if there were more meaning than she was letting on.

Her eyes then widened."Could you not tell Charlotte this though? I would hate to have her feelings hurt." Hermione said. Jim opened his mouth then shut it, seeing the expression on Hermione's face.

"All right I won't. You are really an oddball though, you do know that right?"

"I know, but at least I know who I am now." she said. To this he said nothing in reply, and he slowly began to walk away, like a ghost into the night.

XXX

After he had left our full view John slowly began to loosen his fists. "Who was that git?" John asked, his body still tense as he was still angry.

"That was none other than Jim Moriarty." I replied nonchalantly.

"I can't believe he went looking for me." Hermione said, shuddering at the idea. To be honest I was rather shocked at it myself, as it usually wasn't in his character to do so. It was reasonable though, considering he liked her anyways.

"I can't believe you actually went to that stupid party."

"Well it was even less than twenty minutes, and besides it was pretty awful because Jim kept staring at me the whole time."

"Well no wonder considering he likes you." I replied.

Hermione gasped as if I was oblivious to those things. "How did you know?"

"It was rather obvious considering he was nice to you, and that was a first sign considering he's a complete jerk to almost everybody. I'm surprised you didn't even notice." I shook my head at Hermione's shocked expression.

"Well he's a complete jerk." John said, and for some reason I couldn't help but laugh.

"What is it?" John and Hermione asked, looking confused.

I couldn't explain it though really. Perhaps though it was just the idea of standing in complete darkness dressed in these costumes, the way we all looked ridiculous, Hermiones hair frazzled and frayed, John himself having the utmost ridiculous expression strewn across his face. Even I, a pirate costume, bedazzled and worn, all of this into the night. A combination that just couldn't help but make me smile, my laughing flowing into the wind.

XXX

After we had arrived in our neighbourhood, John went back home (after of course I gave the candy to him) and together Hermione and I went back to her house, where her mom was already awaiting us.

"How long did you know?" Hermione asked.

"I had my suspicions but I truly knew four weeks ago." I said.

"A whole month, and you didn't bother to tell me!"

I shrugged. "You didn't ask."

"Well I'd thought if you'd learn something like that you'd tell me! Does anyone else like me?"

"Not that I'm aware of, no offense Hermione but you aren't exactly popular like Charlotte, it's even strange for someone popular like Jim to like you like that."

"Well you are right, I'm not pretty after all."

"I didn't say you weren't pretty."

"But am I pretty?" she asked innocently.

I blushed, though I don't really know why because I didn't like her like that. Hermione was many things but pretty wasn't exactly a word I would use on her. She certainly wasn't ugly or anything, but she wasn't drop dead gorgeous or princess like like Charlotte. Her being pretty like that would be odd too, considering her personality and always being a bit rough around the edges. Still, she wasn't ugly at all, even with her wild mane of hair that stuck out at the edges. While those things per say didn't exactly make her 'pretty' or doll like like most people would like I had learned to get used to them. With those gone I don't think I would recognise her, those things made her unique in her own way and I liked them about her. Hermione I suppose was pretty in her own way, though there was no way over my dead body I was going to admit that.

"What did you think of Jim Moriarty anyways." I said, changing the subject.

Hermione shrugged. "I never really knew him, I always thought he was nice but a bit odd to be honest. Now I know why though, I never really liked him like that."

"Well good, because he's a git." I then frowned.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Hermione why are you friends with me? No one else is and for good reason, I'm not kind, loyal, or funny. I will admit sometimes I can be arrogant and a bit of a gi-"

"You mean a lot of times."

"Hm, I mean John has learned to put up with it, he's grown up and is used to it. But Hermione you've only known me even less than a year, why do you put up with it still?"

"Why wouldn't I? Look Sherlock, you may be a lot of things, including an arrogant git that may drive me up the walls but you're my best friend, and the best friend I could ever ask for at that. Don't ever, ever think I'll turn against you otherwise. Promise me that?"

"But Hermi-"

"No buts" she then smiled. "Come on Sherlock, you're supposed to be the smart one here."

She then turned serious again. "Promise me?"

"If you promise me something." I replied.

"Promise me you'll never act like those girls, ever."

"Well that's easy enough. Fine, I Hermione Jean Granger promise that I'll never be a stupid, arrogant, trivial minded girl like Charlotte. Now your turn."

"Fine, I Sherlock Holmes promise to trust the oh so smart, sometimes bratty and always loud mouthed Hermione Granger."

"I'm not loud mouthed!"

"You can be sometimes dearie," Hermione's mom called, and I couldn't helped but look contempt at Hermione's look of defeat.

XXX

 **Author's Note**

First off, in case I didn't make this clear or anything, Sherlock's mother is not a bad character; and she will never will be. Despite Sherlock's POV of her and things she truly does care about Sherlock probably deeper than most of us can imagine, that is why Hermione is so harsh to him when he's rude to her, because she understands this. Raising Sherlock in itself would probably be a hard task, and she sees the bullying and unhappiness he probably has. She doesn't know how to reach him though in his way, so she tries to treat him how she would treat a normal child, and almost try to mold him into a more 'average' child so that he may find friends and be more happy. This of course doesn't happen at all and pushes Sherlock even more away from her; and that's probably why she likes Hermione so much, as it's one of Sherlock's few grade friends and she almost envies him because she can reach him on a level that she can't. Anyways, thank you all for reading this, and please review! :)


	11. Why can't I have Her,

**Author's Note**

I don't Own Sherlock Or Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 11. Why Can't I haver Her?**

 **Jim Moriarty POV**

I remember perfectly what that day was like when I first saw her. It was the first day of school, and as usual in England it was a dreary day; the rain slowly drizzling down from the sky. Even despite my rain boots and rain jacket I was still wet much to my dismay, and things it seemed weren't turning my way. Mother had of course dropped me off early to school, and I settled in, reading some books to pass the time.

There were of course a couples of other students there. There was the utmost barbaric and immature Greg, who half the time was screaming and shouting on the top of his lungs like an idiot, or the other half drooling while he slept. Then there was the mousy wimp of a girl, Molly Hooper who was ugly as a doorknob and had the personality of a rock, not to mention she was practically a doormat to for some reason there was the person I despised the most, Sherlock Holmes.

He was as usual in his usual mess of an appearance, making even beggars look like fashion models compared to his attire, not that he cared about his looks unlike I. His curly wet mop of hair sat atop his head like a broken crown, and was practically begging to be dried; though with it wet it looked quite less frazzled than it usually did. Still even with all these things he looked awkward, with his long almost sticklike legs and ape like arms, making him look even more barbaric.

Sherlock and I though had a long history together, we had been in the same class every year since kindergarten; and to be honest we had never really gotten along and if you had ever met him you'll know why. He was to say the least, very unpopular, and practically had no friends that I could list; and for good reason. He was smart, I'll give him that, but he was also brash, rude, and arrogant, arguing with practically everyone, even the teachers. It was a miracle in itself that he wasn't expelled from school and had made it this far. Perhaps I wasn't the kindest to him but he was rude to me too and everyone else, it only seemed justifiable to be rude to him too. I hated Sherlock though the most was his arrogance, that despite being unlike, despite having no friends and being always ridiculous looking, he had the never to have the aura to act as if he was better than everyone. Popularity and such things if he even knew of them didn't bother him, and nothing could squash his growing ego. That's why everyone hated Sherlock Holmes, you couldn't stop or hurt him like most people, he didn't play by the rules.

Anyways I was about to go up to him then she came. At first I had barely given her a glance but when I did I couldn't help but stare at her. She was very different than the other girls in our school, even at the first day I realised that. She wasn't ugly or anything, but she definitely wasn't just your simple hair salon girl. Even with her atrocious wild mane of sopping wet hair and a thousand freckles I couldn't just help but stare and try to take it all in. Her large booming voice echoed across the room, though it wasn't exactly bossy or mean, it was declaring, radiant, leader-like even. She was trying to make a statement, and indeed she did. More than that though was just the way she observed anything. It wasn't rude or anything, but it was very observant. Everything to her it seemed was new and exciting, and I envied her for that feeling that I had never felt really before. I had lived in this boring, quaint town all my life and any of sense of wonder and excitement had long since disappeared from me. As I watched her though I couldn't help but feel a bit of almost excitement in myself for her. That was then the first day I realised I really liked Hermione Granger.

Trying to talk and woo her though became a challenge in itself that I had never faced before, and I will even admit was harder than I had thought it to be. Like I had said, she wasn't like ordinary girls, she couldn't be won over with sweet compliments on her looks, or sentimental things such as flowers of chocolates; I soon found out that those things wouldn't work on her. She didn't care for than fancy things in her life, she seemed to need to need for them. She did have interests though, which were vastly different, as they were very academic. In class you could just see her light up on fire, beating even that annoying genius Sherlock at his own prime game. Many people took note of this too and she even earned quite a title for herself. It was wonderful and almost heartwarming to see her in the room, doing what she loved, just plain learning. You could see that glow emit from her as she just learned everything, and her flame shone so brightly even in my soul of darkness.

The downside to this of course was that Sherlock (having never really been beat) became an even more bigoted jerk to her that berated her all the time. Hermione of course hated this and both of them argued all the time, but to be fair she never started the arguments. Sherlock always did, he was always constantly trying to prove her wrong. Personally I thought he was just wrong at least half of the time, but he couldn't accept being beat at it, especially from her. I could almost pity him though, after all it was the only thing he had.

Sherlock didn't have anything else in the school, he didn't have a good style, he wasn't known to be kind or funny (or any good quality at that). He wasn't popular, he wasn't good at sports or the arts. He lacked in fact in nothing else except his intelligence. He in fact didn't even have friends except one fool of a boy named John. John had always given me the odd creeps for some reason, perhaps because he was older and still hung out with Sherlock, or perhaps it was just the way he looked. It seemed though that John was always watching and somehow giving me the evil eye, even though I never did anything wrong. I wasn't the evil one though, Sherlock was just the boring one.

Still I didn't pity Sherlock at all, he had almost made Hermione cry in class once, bringing her on the verge of tears. She hated him, and I did too. Together it felt like we were over powering him, together conquering our shared enemy. That all changed though after the book report.

XXX

Our teacher had the stupid idea to assign a month long book report to us. The task was simple, you and a partner just had to read a book and make a report on it before the deadline, simple enough. I was secretly hoping I would get Hermione, it would then be the perfect opportunity to flaunt my knowledge of literature and hopefully impress her, but instead I got stuck with stupid Greg, who I doubted even could read considering half the time was running around, much less having the maturity or even the stability to stay still to read a book. It was amazing in the fact that he even passed the first grade, I had even asked my mother this who had compiled a complaint, but of course nothing was done to change the matter.

What was even the worst though was Hermione's partner, which was none other than our mortal enemy: Sherlock. The two of them argued constantly and even more so, and it got to the point where both of them were sent to the hall just so they would stop yelling. I honestly felt terrible for her, she didn't deserve to be with him, and it was honestly so stupid to think that they could get along, I didn't know what the teacher was thinking.

But then when the book report was over, something had changed. At first it wasn't obvious but time over time it became almost glaringly so. It became large drama, and everyone was talking about it. It first started after they stopped arguing so much, then people began to notice that Sherlock even smiled (which was unheard of) and soon they began even to hang out with each other. Now though despite what everyone says I don't think they're dating. Everyone thinks they are much to Charlotte's rage as she wanted to be the first couple in our grade.

Hermione of course was oblivious to these rumours, and I felt bad for her. I can't imagine being framed for dating someone, much less the likes of his kind. I would be completely repulsed if I were to ever hear of such things, but of course she doesn't know so she isn't. She has begun to notice though how people are beginning to isolate her though, and I feel bad for it. It's not like she's being rude or anything, it's just that she's hanging out with him, and I guess people worry that she will turn like him, not that she could possibly be like that. Still, I think the isolation is for her own good, perhaps it will make her realise how much of a jerk he really is and then she'll stop hanging out with him, just like it is meant to be. Besides there's nothing I can do about it, I have my own reputation to uphold and it's not like I can convince the whole grade what I see in her. I think the only other person who can see the unique spark in her is Sherlock, and for some reason that scares me.

While I do think it is odd that she hangs out with him, I don't think they're dating. They can't be dating, practically a month before he was our mortal enemy; and now they hardly leave each other's side. It just doesn't make sense at all, and I still do have my suspicions about him. I mean I realise why Sherlock hangs out with her, she's practically an angel, far too good for his likes. For the way he treats her its a miracle they're still friends, even now he doesn't treat her kindly at all. I don't know why she chooses to hang out with him though. Out of all the people in our grade, even Greg, she chooses him. She chooses the most arrogant, unlikeable person in our whole grade to be 'friends' with. Not only does it worsen and make a horrible friendship, but it drastically drops her popularity, not that she might care but I do. If I were to try to date her it would cause a lot of drama, and not to mention would drop my own status.

Tonight though it's going to change. Using my connections and a little bit of charm, I managed to convince Charlotte to invite Hermione to her Halloween Party. In case you don't know Charlotte's Halloween Party is a very big deal, and practically everyone wishes to be invited to it. All the most popular kids not only from our grade but even up into the high school go to it, and it's pretty impressive. It's the coolest party everyone wishes to go to every year, and has made a reputation for itself. You would have to be an idiot to think about turning it down.

Charlotte and I then set up a plan, she would direct Hermione to the food table where I would be standing, and then perhaps I could ask her dance. After a couple of dances and things we could just hang out and maybe by tonight I might even have a girlfriend. Yes, it would all work out and go perfectly, I could hardly wait.

XXX

This night ended up in a complete disaster than I could have even thought possible. It had all started out as planned and seemed to be going well, Hermione appeared at the party a little late, which was a bit surprising. Charlotte did what I had told her to do and led her to the snack table where I was waiting, watching her from the corner. She looked her usual beautiful way which matched her witch costume. Her same even more afriz and wild, much like a lion's mane, and her eyes were bright, though it seemed more with caution than curiosity. She seemed unnatural, uncomfortable in the mish and mash of the party, as she looked around to the swarming fish, like a small little fish in a big school. If she were to date me though she would have to get used to this, at least then though I would be there for her. Still, I had to admit it was humorous to watch, like an elephant trying to walk on a tight rope.

Well, I was then going to walk to her and try to talk to her but I was blocked by Charlotte's idiot friends who of course had no clue of the plan. They swarmed me like dodos, and acted like it too, blocking me all around. The last thing I saw in fact was Charlotte talking to Hermione, before Hermione doubled over and ran out of the house. When her stupid friends finally did leave me I found Charlotte, and asked her where Hermione had gone. Charlotte of course gave her usual snide and sarcastic remark.

"I really don't see what you see in her, honestly." I shook my head, annoyed.

"Just tell me where she is."

"I don't know, why don't you find her, prince charming." I gritted my teeth and left after that, searching for Hermione.

After an hour though of menial searching I finally with a heavy heart began to turn back; that's of course though when I noticed her, or rather them. At first I didn't notice at all, it was so dark that they looked like ghosts in the heavy fog, but then I heard her laughter, clear and ringing like a bell, and I ran towards her.

When I did run though I only then noticed that she wasn't alone. She was with that arrogant git, Sherlock of all people and his idiot bumbling friend, John Watson. If that weren't bad enough they were all in costumes, even it seemed to be themed, as if they had actually planned this. It actually might have been amusing except for the fact that I was too occupied with the fact that she was with _him._ Hermione had changed outfits, she was wearing a green outfit with a small cap on her head, containing some (but not really) her wild mane of hair, her hat looking rather like a tea cup on her head. The oaf was wearing an all too small striped blue shirt and a too small red bandanna that made him look even stupider (if that was even possible). Finally though there was Sherlock, who wore a red velvet pirate costume and a large hat with a ridiculous plume that covered his eye and he had a hook on one hand. It was really hard not to laugh at it, but then I was too angry to really care at that point.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked in his usual snob of a tone. The poor boy, thinking actually hermione liked him, when we both knew she was only doing it out of probably sheer pity for him. She was too kind and good for that git though; even if it was just out of pity.

"I was looking for Hermione, I heard she got the stomach flu." I then turned to him and glared. "I should be asking the same for yourself." For a moment he said nothing, I knew I had angered him, his face was turning redder and his fists were balled.

I turned sympathetically to Hermione. "What are you doing with these losers?" She slightly frowned, though I don't know why. Didn't she know she deserved better than these losers?

"actually, I've been trick or treating with Sherlock all night!" She smiled cheerily.

Anger and confusion washed all over me, she had the perfect chance to be popular, regain her social status, have actual friends; she had all these chances yet she still chose him? She chose the person who treated her the worst, the arrogant git who didn't deserve to have friends, she chose him and threw it all away just for him? I had so many better qualities too, there were just so many better things about it if she had played her cards right. She had thrown her cards away though, what was so much better about him than me, than her social status? What could she possibly gain from him?

Anger washed over me even more but it all dissipated when I saw her grab his hand, shock went through both of us, though he recovered more quickly then I as he knew he had just won this one, for now. Charlotte had been right, they truly were a couple and I had just should have given up a long time ago. It couldn't be true though, I wouldn't accept it. She was far too perfect for him, and he was far too broken. I just had to ask. "But why would you do that, why would you go with them?"

She frowned again, though deeper this time and I knew I had hit a nerve somewhere though I don't know how. They couldn't be dating, they couldn't even be friends or even remotely like each other. The world just didn't work that way, in this world it was supposed to be me and her, the heroes were supposed to win, the hero gets the lover and the evil never gets what he truly wants in the end. Yet it didn't happen that way, and I didn't know why.

"Because I made a promise to Sherlock." she said firmly, and though she smiled I knew there was a sort of anger underlying within her. And despite her choice of 'friends' was pitiful, I still couldn't help but still respect her for remaining loyal to them, even though they would turn their back on her, especially Sherlock. The fire in her shone brightly again, and even when she was so wrong she seemed so right.

"All right then, you really are an oddball Hermione."

"I know I am, but at least I know who I am now." Those words struck me harder than a blow to the chest with a knife; and I soon left, being a ghost in the shadows, and all the more confused.

 **Author's Note**

This will probably the only chapter from Jim Moriarty's point of view and any other character besides Hermione and Sherlock (perhaps john but unlikely). Before you get angry though, Jim Moriarty I want to say is not actually in love with Hermione; or rather an unhealthy kind of love. It is rather an obsessive love, he doesn't see her really as a person like Sherlock, he doesn't have the real respect for her, and he thinks of her almost as if a goddess. And while you may love that goddess trying to woo her over you may treat it as so, an object so unattainable you can not truly love it; or rather you just get a thrill in trying. He loves more than her the challenge of actually winning her over, and being this complete in his 'life' or as far as he knows, all the aspects of it. Sherlock on the other hand sees her as a person, a wonderful person, but as a real moral object. he doesn't care about those things that Jim does, and that's perhaps what both Jim and Hermione know deep down. Anyways, thank you for reading and sticking with this. :)


	12. Christmas Shopping

**Author's Note**

I do not own Sherlock or the Harry Potter franchise.

 **Christmas shopping Chapter 12.**

 **Sherlock POV**

"Christmas is coming up soon!" Hermione chirped happily.

I rolled my eyes, for her intelligence she got much too excited for these stupid holidays. It's not like you won the lottery being this cheery or anything like that. At best during this time you got some half decent food, some gifts I would end up using or breaking in six months, some snow you couldn't do anything with, and a couple days off from school. I suppose the idea off from school was appealing, but it was getting a bit old after a couple years of it.

"What do you want for Christmas?" Hermione asked, her eyes were wide.

"For you to be less cheery about it."

"Locks, are you telling me you don't like Christmas either?" she said, looking surprised as if that was shocking.

"Honestly, what is there to like? An old man who stalks you for a whole year supposedly breaks into your house on one night because you're a 'good child' and you get some stupid toy you'll probably break soon. What joy."

"But what about carolling?"

"Random strangers coming to your door in the freezing middle of winter only to sing you a sing they're already blasting on the radio half the time. Fun."

"Well there's making cookies-"

"We can do that all year." I said, she slammed the book she was reading in frustration before smiling.

"Well Locks, I'm going to prove to you one way or another that Christmas can be fun."

"Oh I bet you will."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Maybe it is."

She then smiled smugly. "Well seeing as I got you to like Halloween I bet I can get you to like Christmas too."

"I do not like Halloween!" I yelled, but she still smiled smugly.

"Anyways, I do accept your challenge." She said and suddenly smiled wider, and I knew she already had her first idea.

XXX

"And why am I agreeing to do this again?"

"Because you're a nice friend and you promised you would be willing to do anything with me in order for me to win this bet." She looked at me then with such earnest that I couldn't help but roll my eyes. How is putting raw ingredients together in a mixture, cutting them out and waiting for them to cook fun?

"How did you think I would like this?"

She shrugged. "You like chemistry and baking is basically the same principles."

"Except there are no explosions, or chemical reactions that are exciting, and you don't get to use a blow torch."

"Well we're trying to cook like normal people."

"But being normal is so dulling." She sighed, and stamped her foot impatiently.

"Just stop being a bloke and help already." she said, and I reluctantly began to mix the batter.

Truth be told I never really had a fondness for baking. Even when I was little at my grandmother's I never did, my older brother always did it I ate the batter. I just found it rather pointless, and I was always too impatient for it, patience never really being my strong suit for trivial things such as this. I could see though why Hermione liked it, she was always more gifted in things like this in general than me. She continued to roll out the dough and cut cookies out of it, humming a little tune as she went along. I honestly still didn't see how she liked this, it was just like using molding clay to cut shapes. She seemed happy though to do it, happier than I had ever seen her before; maybe even perhaps a bit nostalgic. It seemed that there more to this than just cutting these pointless shapes out, maybe it just reminded her of something else, maybe of her old home.

She then laughed at me when she saw my cookies after they were decorated. "It's really not that hard."

"Easy for you to say." I said defensively, compared to hers mine looked like zombies while hers actually looked like people. Mine somehow or another were deformed in many ways, from the limbs being too crooked, or the eyes too high on the head, it was almost pitiful really.

"Is that a gingerbread cherry?" she asked.

"It's supposed to be a gingerbread santa claus." I said, and to this she laughed even harder.

XXX

"Don't worry, Molly's mom will pick us up after an hour." I said for the final time before leaving. I was going with Molly to the mall for Christmas shopping; I still hadn't done it yet and I needed to get a gift for Sherlock. Molly and her mom just so happened to be too, so it was nice of them to offer to drop me off with them.

We drove up to the large mall, or rather only mall in the whole area, and you could tell. The mall itself wasn't very new, sure it had new shops but the entirety of it had seen better days. Still like most places it was cheerily decorated, there were bright christmas lights wrapped around the trees outside, a big blowup reindeer stood by the door as you walked in. Even as you went in it was decorated more, with metal angels hanging from the walls, tinsel wrapped around staircases, and a large christmas tree at least ten feet tall stood in the centre of the mall, glistening cheerfully. I smiled, this was always my favourite part of the year, it just always seemed so cheery and so warm even in the coldest times of the winter.

Molly and I immediately went shopping, I had no idea what I was going to get Sherlock though. I mean I knew his interests were in science and other things along that line but I already figured he was getting lots of chemistry sets already; and I wanted my gift to actually be meaningful. It was hard to think of something for him though because Sherlock wasn't exactly the sentimental type. He wasn't ever really over emotional, or overly sentimental or sweet, it wasn't exactly a bad thing, it just wasn't him.

I looked around the store, but nothing really seemed to fit him. Everything seemed much too gushy, too flowery, too cheery and bright for him. It was if everything in here was trying to describe the exact opposite of him, imagining his reaction to getting one of these things was almost laughable.

"You're getting a gift for Sherlock, right?" Molly asked, and I nodded, still frustrated.

"Do you know what he would like?" She shook her head.

"He doesn't really talk to me, he thinks of me as weird or something."

"You two are a better couple anyways." She added.

"What?" I asked incredulous.

People actually thought Sherlock and I were a couple? Is that what everyone had been whispering behind my back at school? Is that what everyone really thought, that we were actually dating? That was crazy, we were only in the third grade, I didn't consider dating Sherlock or anyone for that matter. It was stupid to date anyone; and I was very content not to do so.

She nodded. "That's what Charlotte and her friends have been told, or at least that's what they're saying."

"Oh, well we're not you know." I said, and although she was trying to hide I knew Molly let out a small sigh in relief.

"Still, it's not that odd considering how odd it is that you two are so close."

"What do you mean?"

"Well Sherlock doesn't really like people. He never really has, I've tried forever it seems to try to talk to him but it never works. But with you its been less than a year even and already you two seem like best friends. It's just so odd." I sighed, and I felt bad for her because I knew she was right.

Out of all the people in the grade Molly probably chose the worst person to have a crush on. Asides from his usual arrogant and rather rude nature, he also wasn't exactly the most kind hearted or even chatty person. Besides me really he didn't talk to anyone that much, usually people avoiding him but also he avoided them, or at least gave an air off of doing so. Sherlock it seemed was very picky of those he chose to talk to, and had little to no disregard to those who he didn't really care for. He was also oblivious to Molly's feeble attempts and was probably clueless that she had a crush on him. Even if he did know though I'm not actually sure he would care.

"Yeah, he's really anti-social I guess. If you really try though to actually talk to him he might warm up a bit. It also helps though if you talk to him about his interests, after all he does have that ego of his." I said, rolling my eyes. She smiled.

"Yes, I'll try that. Maybe it might just work." She said and I could see there was little glimmer of hope in her eyes.

I then looked over at the clothing's rack and something spotted my eye, and then and there I knew exactly what I was going to get him.

XXX

 **Sherlock POV**

"Do I have to go Christmas shopping with you? Why can't I just stay with John, or Hermione, or even Mrs. Hudson!"

Mother then sighed impatiently. "Hermione is out shopping with Molly, John is away in London to visit his grandparents for the holidays, and Mrs. Hudson is moving to Florida with her husband!"

She then added: "It'll be fun Sherlock, besides you need to get the presents for everyone by yourself."

"Why do I need to get the presents? Isn't 'santa' supposed to supply them?"

"Yes but Santa is busy and it's the nice thing to do, now come on, chop chop." I sighed in defeat as I went into the car.

The mall wasn't far away, though I wish it was. Everything in it seemed to be exploded with Christmas and 'cheer' on it. There were large billboards full of christmas advertisements as we drove. Stupid Christmas songs were blasted on the radio much to my dislike, and even the outside of the mall was decorated, with overly bright christmas lights and tinsel stupidly decorating the mall, making it look like a Christmas tree in itself. I honestly wish I could stay dormant for this whole season, because honestly this season was just a marketing campaign just so companies could make millions of dollars on pointless trinkets and decorations of this nature.

"Are you going to buy anything?" Mother asked.

"No, why would I?"

"You're going to get Hermione something, right? She is your friend after all."

"I already made mediocre cookies with her and hung out with her enough, isn't that enough?"

"Sherlock, it's Christmas. You should do something nice for her to show you actually do care about her." She then picked up a Barbie.

"How about this?" I had to fight the urge of laughing then.

My mother for being a 'genius' could be a complete dolt at times, especially on matters such as there. Hermione playing with a Barbie or really any doll for that matter was almost laughable, it was just ridiculous even thinking about it. What just seemed so foolish was my mother actually thought that Hermione was just some normal girl; that she would actually be interested in doing makeup or playing with barbies, even Lestrarde knew that was out of her nature. If Hermione was truly only like normal girls I would have rejected her immediately just like the other girls in our grade. Hermione had more to her, she certainly was much more interesting to talk to and just in general had more depth to her than most. That's why I liked her so much, it was refreshing to talk to someone actually interesting.

After much arguing and meandering around the mall we ended up going home without me buying anything; which of course drove my mother crazy. All throughout the car ride she kept berating me, as if pestering me would do any good.

It wasn't as if I didn't like Hermione, I did. In truth though I just didn't know what to get her. Sentiments and things along those lines weren't my strong suit, and besides it was just pointless to get her some material thing. Material things just faded out of use and memory and soon were forgotten, I wanted something she would actually remember and cherish, even if she couldn't exactly use it or it wasn't exactly practical. I wanted something that she would remember forever, sure a book or some science kit she would like, but she would probably forget about it, I didn't want our friendship just to be that. I wanted something that she would love, something that was some great, just like our friendship. Didn't my mother understand this? Didn't anyone understand this?

"For the last time I'm not getting her anything!" I yelled.

"Back to old habits I suppose, it must really be Christmas." I recognized the voice, the snide tone, and my blood began to boil.

"Hello dear brother, merry Christmas."

 **Author's Note**

This was just another fluffy chapter that was fun to right, and I needed a way to create a cliff hanger. I also am re-updating to mention a few things that I forgot to mention. Firstly while I thought it was fun for Molly to have a crush on Sherlock, they won't become a couple or anything of that nature. While Sherlolly in itself is a very cute ship I don't think in here or in the show it will really ever become cannon solely due to Sherlocks opposite behaviour and Molly more or less meek one. I don't really think they would a be good couple at least. Secondly, my characters also tend to go from older to mature, this is not only how I write (I tend to usually write teenagers and other characters) but I think its also fitting. During this age you still have many innocences of your younger childhood but also are beginning to mature in different aspects, or at least mimic maturity. Especially for these crushes and dating, many of them are very innocent, and though they seem a lot more mature, they really don't know as much as what they're thinking about; rather hearing it more than thinking of it for themselves. Still I will admit I did write them a little older than third grade, though I suppose they could be very mature third graders. After this though I really don't know where I might take it as I am not satisfied with the next drafts of it, so it might be a while after I update. Anyways thank you so much for all who read this and please review!

*Also on a side note in case for many of those that you were confused on Jim Moriarty, he was initially much older than Sherlock and Hermione (in fact he was going to be John's age) but I then changed it due to it seeming too creepy (I mean he already is creepy) for him to be crushing on Hermione, especially since they wouldn't ever really talk. It also gave an excuse for Sherlock to have his arch enemy, and made it much easier for him to be written in. Still when I had written him and redrafted many of his older traits and had remained making him see much older than his age. I think though it does fit him, because honestly it would be a bit odd to write him as innocent or anything like that, I find it much too forced and odd.


	13. Christmas Eve With the Holmes

**Authors Note**

Blah Blah Blah I don't own the Sherlock and Harry Potter franchise

 **Chapter 13: Christmas at the Holmes**

 **Hermione POV**

Before I could even enter the house I could hear the shouts coming from it, and at once I knew it was between Sherlock and his mother.

"How could you let that bloody person in and not tell me?" He was screaming on the top of his lungs now, and he sounded madder than I had ever heard him before. He was madder than his black moods, madder than when his experiments had failed, and even madder than when I had bailed him and came back from the Halloween party.

I knocked on the door in which a very surprised Mrs. Holmes and very angry Sherlock greeted me. "Oh who is it now, Aunt Gertrude? Might as well invite the whole parade of idiots in our family!"

"Sherlock it's Hermione for goodness sakes!" She then turned to look at me apologetically. "Hello Hermione, sorry Sherlock is just being so impetuously rude, he's in one of his moods ag-"

"It's not just a mood! It's an unusual breakage of privacy!" He yelled back. He then quickly came the door and promptly grabbed my hand, dragging me to his room, for a quick second a caught a glance of a young teenager in the living room but I barely had time to look before I was already in his room, with Sherlock slamming the door much to his mother's protests.

"Who are you talking about?" I asked after a while.

"Only the stupidest git in the planet, showing his face and having the nerve not only go into my room but also clean it! He has OCD I tell you, always needing things to be neat and organised, otherwise always throwing a fit about it!" I looked around and did notice then that his room in fact was clean. There were no clothes or books strewn across the floor, all the books in his shelf were neatly put, and in fact every book in his room was put neatly, each on corners of the desk neatly in piles. His clothes all were tucked away or put out of sight, and there was actually a place to sit on his bed. Even his bed had been made, the corners of it being neat and crisp and the pillow being exactly aligned in the then the door opened and a tall, young, teenage boy, (no older than fourteen) stood in the doorway.

Already I could feel the tension in the air between the two of them, and I could feel the hate that Sherlock was emanating from him just standing in his presence. The air felt so thick full of it that I could almost see it and cut with a knife. The teenager that stood before us was tall and lanky like Sherlock, though he seemed more proportioned more or less. He also had the trademark sharp nose and his eyes like Sherlock were piercing blue, but they weren't as observatory; though they seemed still very logical and analytical, but they also seemed more calcuolatory. He wore a rather nice shirt and vest; and his hair was well combed unlike Sherlock's wild mess of hair. He seemed in fact almost the exact opposite in appearance to him when it came to those things. Maybe though it was from a boarding school though, because on the corner of his vest was a prefect badge, though I didn't recognised the school. The emblem behind it was a raven, and it was coloured dark blue.

"So Sherlock, I see they made you get rid of that dreadful lock on the door." He said, and looked around the room in distaste as Sherlock had already messed up the majority of the book piles.

"Mycroft, how has school life been treating you?" he said through gritted teeth.

I had to hide back my shock, so this was the infamous Mycroft Holmes. Sherlock had mentioned his older brother a couple times, well when I mean mentioned I mean when I had asked and was usually followed by a smart remark to it. I was a bit shocked though that this was actually him, I expected him to be much more sinister looking, more evil perhaps, or at least less ordinary looking. I guess I shouldn't have been though considering all the photos of him when he was younger on the mantle.

"Care to explain your friend here?" He asked and I felt there was an underlying message from his tone. Sherlock seemed to have understood the message and only scowled even more. They both eyed each other, Sherlock scowling with anger and Mycroft himself giving a reproachful look.

"Hermione Granger." I said, interrupting the stare off and I put out my hand, he didn't take it though. Rather he seemed much more interested in the concept of me being here, or rather the concept of me being in Sherlock's room. He studied me for a while, staring me down, I wondered if he could do what Sherlock could do, it felt like he could. I hated the feeling though when he stared at me, it made me feel transparent vulnerable. It seemed almost as if I was a puzzle he was trying to take apart piece by piece to dissect and observe every aspect of me, a chill went up my spine.

After a long while he finally spoke. "Well Hermione, I welcome you with a warm welcome. Are you staying for dinner?" Before I could answer though he lefted rather nonchalantly, leaving a still furious Sherlock.

"Well he's quite the charmer." I said.

"You have no idea." He replied.

XXX

I called my parents and told them I would be spending my Christmas Eve with the Holmes, much to their disappointment to say the least. I finally convinced them though after though after I promised I would spend the rest of the holiday with them if I could stay the night and morning of Christmas with the Holmes.

The dinner was delicious, and rather a feast. Roasted honey glazed ham, steaming bread rolls, overflowing bowls of sides like hot mashed potatoes and sweet corn lined the dinner table. It was one of the most delicious dinners I had ever had in my life, and I mentioned that to Mrs. Holmes numerous times, blushing as she apparently never had that many guests to cook for.

The dinner environment though was a different story. Everyone was awkward and quiet, Mr Holmes was quiet and off put (he never really talked that much anyways) Mrs. Holmes was looking both nervously at Sherlock and Mycroft, waiting for one to explode (mainly eyeing Sherlock), and Sherlock and Mycroft were shooting daggers at each other in the eyes with their glares. They were put on opposite sides of the tables to prevent conflict but I think it only made it worst. I sat nervously, watching both of them.

"So Hermione how do you know Sherlock?" He said, almost spitting Sherlock's name as if it was an insult.

"We're just school mates." Sherlock said, before I could say anything otherwise.

"Ah yes, school mates." Mycroft said bitterly.

"As if you would know since you have none." Sherlock added with defiance.

"Believe or not, dear brother, I'm actually quite popular, even being a prefect." He said.

"Of course you are." Sherlock said bitterly and I knew there was more bitterness behind those words than that meets the eye. There seemed to be an unresolved rivalry between them, an angerness built up over years of just anger and jealousy for the other (more of which came from Sherlock). I didn't say anything about it then though, I would ask Sherlock later. For then I stayed quiet as they both exchanged daggers again over the table.

XXX

Sherlock's mood didn't get any better over the night, he was still happy to seem me though I suppose. He didn't say much through throughout the night, he stayed in his room a lot just glued onto his computer. Mrs. Holmes was really kind though, she even gave us a tray of hot chocolate and warm cookies to snack on later in the night.

I slipped into the living room to return the tray, Mycroft was there sitting by the fireplace reading a book. I didn't recognise the odd title though, "Tales of Unusual Beasts". It was strange for him to be reading that, if he was anything like Sherlock he would have never even picked up the book. They really then must be opposites, which would explain Sherlock's distaste for him. He then looked up from the book, seeing me.

"Ah, Hermione." He said, tucking the book away.

"Good evening." I said, still holding the tray.

"Yes, so you are Sherlock's so called 'school mates'." He said laughing at this, though it seemed a bit forced and hollow.

"So tell me Hermione, how did you go on and meet Sherlock?" he asked.

I thought carefully before answering. "We're just in the same class and had projects together."

"And so what do you think of him?"

"Why do you want to know?" He then chuckled.

"So my brother has then warned of me, I don't mean to do any harm, I'm simply just curious."

"Well, Sherlock is a bit of a git but he's nice enough too. Also he's extremely brilliant, though he can be an absolute idiot at times." I admitted.

Mycroft laughed at this even more. "That I can agree on."

"Why do you want to know?" I asked.

"Hermione, what did you notice when you first notice about Sherlock when you first met? You seem bright and observant enough, you have to be in order to keep up with him, so tell me, what did you really notice about him?"

I thought back to this. "He was rather quiet I suppose, her certainly wasn't trying to talk to anyone. That wasn't to say he was in his own world completely though, he was very observant that day and scanning everything and everyone that entered."

"Did you notice how he was alone too?"

"Alone?"

"You must understand, Sherlock is a very unique case. He has the mindset of a genius in certain aspects but still on things such as sentiment and emotions he is lacking greatly. Neither of us truly have ever thrived in that, and he truly never has had a friend. I mean sure, he has had that neighbour John but no one truly understands him, it's a lonely path he walked."

I then think really back to that first day of school, I just thought that he was avoiding everyone but then I realised to an extent everyone was avoiding him too, as if he had some disease that was contagious or something. It was if he purposely tried to section himself off from the world, he was afraid of being hurt, he was afraid of being broken.

"And then you enter the picture. You're the first person that Sherlock has let into his room, he even won't let his own family in. I've also heard from Mother he seems to be less moody and even acting more 'normal'. You are in a sense, a miracle for him."

"Why are you telling this?"

"Well I do have to look out for my brother. You see my brother and I never really have gotten a long, partly due to our age gap and partly due to personalities." He then sipped his tea.

"I will even admit I have been a terrible brother to him and perhaps it has taken a toll on him. Still I do care for him to some degree and I don't want his mind going to waste. So I do need you to promise something to me."

"What is it?" I asked.

"I need you to promise you won't break Sherlock, or really hurt him in any way."

"Sherlock never has really had a connection like this, or at least none that I'm aware of. The pain you can strike on him would hurt deeply for him, and I fear the consequences if you ever did so; or I fear what would become of him. So do you promise?"

"I promise, sir." He then half smiled in relief.

"Well that's set then, please don't tell him that I told you this though, after all it is Christmas eve. It was a pleasure to meet you, Hermione Granger."

XXX

"What took you so long?" Sherlock asked, a half annoyed look on his face.

"I was just returning the tray, besides I didn't think you would actually notice if I was gone for a couple minutes." I said, a bit miffed.

"Of course I would notice, why wouldn't I?" I resisted the urge to point out he hadn't really paid attention to me all night, being on that stupid computer of his, only not saying it because I knew he probably already had an excuse for it.

"You were talking to the git? Weren't you?" He said. To this I made no reply but he could read my eyes well enough.

"It's not a big deal, we were just making idle chat." I said.

"My brother doesn't do idle chat." Sherlock said bitterly, and I knew there was an undertone to those words.

"Well what have you been working on anyways?" I asked trying to change the subject and mood, getting only a peek over his shoulder at his computer. I only then caught the title of a document, which was "Hermione".

He then exited the page before I could look any further and I couldn't help but laugh at his expression. His face had turned cherry red.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing" I said, but I could tell he was getting mad.

"Why was that document titled with my name?" I asked but he said nothing, only muttering under his breath how much of a big git I was.

 **Author's Note**

So in case you didn't figure out the 'boarding school' Mycroft attends is of course Hogwarts. I know Mycroft seems out of character, but I personally always thought that 'tough' part that he shows in show is more an illusion, and especially now in the new season I think we'll see the more vulnerable parts of Mycroft (and maybe even Sherlock) of course there is the underlying tensions still between the both of them. I don't think they really were ever particularly close, mainly of age gap (just because of personality and seven years!) still though I think Mycroft does care for him, much to Sherlock's dislike. On a side note though I was considering doing a chapter for Charlotte's part of view. Please comment if you would like a chapter on her point of view. Anyways thank you for all who read it and please review and comment! :)


	14. Christmas Morning

**Authors Note**

I do own the Sherlock and Harry Potter franchise in my dreams as if we live in reality though, I do not.

 **Chapter 14. Christmas Morning**

 **Sherlock POV**

Hermione is already out by the Christmas tree by the time I wake up. Of course she fell asleep earlier than me so that may be the reason; but still even for this early in the morning she seemed ecstatic. Her whole body it seemed to be running purely just from energy, it just even seemed to be radiating from her from top to bottom. Even her hair seemed to be full of electricity, and just sparking at the ends.

"Hermione, it's seven in the morning!" I said groggily, having just woken up.

"Sherlock it's Christmas morning though!" She said and began to squeal in excitement.

Mother it seemed had been up too, preparing for this moment I'm sure. Father was awake too, though barely, dozing off nearly mid drink of his tea while reading the newspaper on the couch. Mycroft was awake even, though it didn't seem by choice. His hair was still very unkempt and he was still in his pajamas, and he wasn't rather enjoying himself either, with his usual scowl on his face.

Hermione then dove under the Christmas tree and retrieved a present, handing it to me. I could tell it was her's by the way of the wrapping, which wasn't beautifully spent too long on like mother's or father's, nor was it pristinely neat and crisp like Mycroft's. This one while had taken effort was clearly not done by a professional, and was sort of haphazardly wrapped. Not that it was a mess or anything, it was still very neat, even the large red bow being perfectly in the center of the box. I could also tell it was hers though by the way it was tied, the loops on hers like her shoes were always bigger than the ends, and for some reason whenever she made a bow it always ended up slightly crooked to the left. I tore off the wrapping paper, and untied the box. Inside the box was a bee sweater.

I stared at the sweater curiously, it was a striped yellow and black sweater, and embroidered on the center was a fluffy little bee smiling happily. Why did Hermione think of this to get me? Out of all things, she thought to get me a bee sweater? I hadn't liked bees or mentioned them really since I was little, and I certainly hadn't told her that I liked bees when I was little (just due to sheer embarrassment). How could she possibly know of those times? It was just so odd, so out of the blue, yet it was the gift that I cherished the most.

"Why did you get this for me?" I asked.

"Well I knew you liked bees, so I thought you might like it." She said rather sheepishly.

"If you don't you can just give it to me and I can retur-"

"No, it's okay." I said.

"Go on then, try it. At least we should know if it fits." Mother said.

"Yes, why don't you try it?" Mycroft added, smirking rather gleefully. Seeing Hermione eager face though I faked a smile and put it on.

"Oh this is just too darling!" Mother said rather happily, and before I could even get a word out in protest she snapped a photo.

XXX

 **A couple weeks earlier**

 **Hermione POV**

"Where's Sherlock?" I asked, he was usually home by now.

"Oh hello Hermione, dearie. Sherlock's just at John's place, he'll be home though soon enough. In the meantime, make yourself at home." she said, and I went into the living room, looking at all the pictures on the mantle in the fireplace.

There were numerous photos of Sherlock, though most of them were when he was a lot younger and had aged and worn with time. They mainly showed him when he was about three or four, he looked back then like a completely different person. I smiled at the photos, these photos weren't like most photos in people's homes that are perfect and almost forced and timed. These photos seemed just more natural, more homely, as if they could transport you to that time. Some in fact were a bit blurry, as if they were just capture a memory to stand time.

There was an old photo covered in dust of Sherlock playing in the bathtub, no older than four. He smiled gleefully as he made huge waves in the tub and splashed with his rubber ducky and toy pirate ship. Water of course in the bathroom was everywhere, even on the photo there was some evidence of water getting on it. Then there was a photo of him and Mycroft around Christmas time, both of them in large Christmas jumpers. Mycroft and him in the photo were making cookies, well rather it seemed Mycroft was and Sherlock was mischievously in the corner of the photo stealing and eating cookie dough. The final photo at the end was of Sherlock (this time directly looking at the camera) smiling the widest I had ever seen him smile, on the picture he was showing a large drawing of a bee, even in the corner in a messy scrawl was his name (the s being backwards). He seemed to smiling proudly at his mother, an expression I had so rarely seen in him, much less to his mother.

"Cute, isn't he?" Mrs. Holmes asked, noticing I was eyeing the photos. She then pulled out from the book case a large, worn, leather album, flipping back the pages to pictures of Sherlock from younger times.

Practically every photo in the album of Sherlock also had him with something bee related, from wearing a too large bee sweater, to drawing a bee drawing on the walls of the house, to dressing up as a bee on halloween, and even him sleeping with a stuffed bee glued to his side. He seemed so happy too, seeming happier than I had ever seen him before. Those days now seemed so long gone, so lost on him, he must have just been so much different when he was younger, he just seemed so happier. I wonder what had happened to him to make him change like that.

"He used to be obsessed with bees, talking nonstop about them." she sighed wistfully.

"I didn't know he liked bees so much."

"He was different kid back then." she looked nostalgically at the photos for a moment, and then shut the album.

XXX

Sherlock wore the sweater all morning, and as far as I could see he seemed to like it (even if he wouldn't admit it). Everyone slowly went through the presents. Mrs Holmes got a new tea set, Mr. Holmes got a new model car. Even Mycroft seemed in a less grumpy mood when he received his mountain of books. Sherlock of course I had expected got a lot of new chemistry sets, which would keep him occupied at least for a month.

When we finally got down to the last present disappointment began to build in me. I know should have expected it a little bit, Sherlock never would have really thought about it, sentiment wasn't one of the things he cared about. Besides he never really liked the holiday anyways, I should have never expected a present from him. Still though I had built up a small shred of hope of that he had gotten me something; that maybe he had actually at least considered it. I wouldn't care if it was horrible or not wrapped or anything, just the idea of him getting me something would make it worthwhile; anything would have made me happy.

"Oh Hermione," Mrs. Holmes began to say, seeing the expression on my face. I saw her shoot a death glare at Sherlock, before coming over to comfort me.

Sherlock of course didn't say anything, rather he then disappeared in his room for a while. Mrs. Holmes soon followed him with screams and shouts at him, and how she had told him to do something. They soon came out of the living room, Mrs. Holmes suddenly quiet. Sherlock followed her, with a violin in hand and sheets of paper tucked under his arm. watched him curiously as he set up the music on a nightstand, saying not a word, his brows furrowed in concentration. Then slowly he began to play.

The melody of the song was so unlike anything I had ever heard before. It was a purely magical, and even mesmerizing. The tones and notes lifted up and down smoothly like the rocking to a lullaby. Even without words it seemed to tell a story, each beautiful and unique just like snow on Christmas Eve. The music continued to dance in the air and as I listened to the sad but beautiful tune I began to smile. It was so disheartening yet it was so beautiful at the same time, and sad lining of happiness seemed to follow it. The notes were words, they told secrets to me that seemed I would only understand, as if it had just been meant for the right person to listen. It told of sorrows and pains, yet it told of happiness in the end. The song soon finished but it felt like an eternity before it did.

After her finished he said nothing, no one in fact said anything because we were all afraid to break the silence. Even Mycroft usually snide or smirking face had gone completely slack. While no music played the sound still rung clear in our heads and we all seemed to be still listening to it. Finally Mrs. Holmes decided to break the silence.

"Sherlock, that was wonderful."

I walked over to him, arms crossed. I pretended to look mad. He then turned to me confused and a bit frightened, as if he had somehow disappointed me, as if I had hated it. "I can't believe you never told me."

"What? Look I'm sorr-"

I cut him off. "I can't believe you never told me you played the violin!" he broke into a smile with relief.

"Did you really compose that on your own?" Mrs. Holmes asked.

"It wasn't that hard." He replied, which was odd considering how arrogant he could be.

"Well that was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard." I said and he sheepishly smiled.

"Good then, because it has your name." He then showed me the papers, and on the top it was titled: "Symphony 1. Hermione's Song."

 **Author's Note**

Okay that was another very fluffy chapter! I couldn't help just making Hermione get him a bee sweater, I thought it was so cute and I just couldn't resist. The idea for the song though I have to say isn't actually mine but came from a friend who recommended Sherlock do that. The actual description of the song though is based off of this song: watch?v=6M17cM8mVM0. Listen to it, I think Sherlock would compose something similar. Anyways thank you all who read this, and please review!


	15. The War

**Author's Note**

As I am not british enough, I do not own the sherlock or Harry Potter franchise.

 **The War Chapter 15.**

 **Hermione POV**

I immediately noticed something was different when I got back to school after break. At first I admit I didn't really, but slowly I began to notice more and more the small details. They weren't big things or anything, it was the subtle things just like people almost avoiding me, like not taking a pencil from me, or moving to the next table if I was going to sit on it. It then later got so bad that a kid actually ran into a wall trying to get away from me when I was going to sharpen my pencil. Everyone in the grade seemed to be doing it to except for a few girls including Molly, and a couple boys like Lestrarde.

Molly though explained to me the next day what was really happening. "Why is everyone avoiding me?" I asked.

She shrugged. "It's because of the war."

"The war?" I asked, confused.

"Charlotte has officially declared war on you and Sherlock, and pretty much almost everyone has chosen her side regardless of liking her or not. Only a few people like me and Lestrarde are staying neutral in it. That's why the majority of our grade is avoiding you two, they don't want to declare being against Charlotte."

"What? Why is she doing this, I hope this doesn't take too long."

Molly shrugged. "She's done this sort of thing before to other girls, but it usually was pretty petty and it wasn't on a large scale like this. She's never actually waged full on war on anyone before and made the whole grade switch against people like this."

"Why is she even doing this though?"

"She probably isn't that mad at you, you haven't exactly given her an excuse to be. She probably is doing this more because she hates Sherlock, and she's only isolating you too because you hang out with him and everyone think you're his girlfriend. It'll probably stop though for you at least if you stop hanging out with Sherlock."

I did a double take on that, all I had to do to get people to stop ignoring me was just not hang out with Sherlock anymore? I mean I knew Sherlock was unlikeable, everyone knew that, but as far as I knew Sherlock had never done anything that made people completely hate him (asides from perhaps a few incidents with Jim Moriarty). What could have Sherlock done to get on Charlotte's bad side so much to make her convince her the majority of the grade to turn back on us? What could have made her go this far?

What about me too though, what was I going to do? On the one hand I could just end it all now and cut all my connection with Sherlock, and never hang out with him again. It would then at least for me end, and everything then perhaps would go more or less back to the way it used to be. It certainly seemed the easier way out for me, but I didn't know if it would be the happier way out. Everything I guess would be the same except I would lose Sherlock, and I don't know if I could ever do that to me or to him. We had just become so sort of intertwined in our lives, separating us would really hurt both ends, and she would have to try a lot harder than this to do so.

Still I admit hanging out with him still would make it harder on me. I didn't for sure want Charlotte as an enemy, perhaps I didn't want her as a friend really anymore but for sure I was adamant on the fact I didn't want to be on her bad side. I saw how she treated those she considered enemies, and it wasn't exactly kind or pretty. I didn't need these mean games played on me, or this mentality she struck, I just didn't want any more chaos or drama in my life.

I wish times were like Kindergarten, where kids were mean but less so perhaps. Kindergarten was such a simpler time, yes there were mean people but we all still had a very good sense of naivety and kindness to us. Everyone was new and exciting, and you tried to be friends with everyone at that age. Everyone still was in their own bubble of their world, and we didn't have to worry so much about these sort of things. The problem was though it wasn't kindergarten anymore. Everyone had grown up and in some ways we had all grown to be a lot meaner and perhaps a bit more calloused, and now everyone knew how the games of this world worked.. Everyone now had just so many different views, and they were all a bit procured and strange because of age. We were getting older now and that bubble that they kept us in was beginning to fade away, people couldn't protect as much from the real the world. In truth too the world wasn't as kind as they made it out to be, and there weren't always dragon slayers to save us. Perhaps youth is a real magic, a magic to keep the innocence of the world.

Molly then looked up at me. "What are you going to do?" I shook my head, the answer still unclear.

"I have no idea."

 **Sherlock POV**

Hermione came running up to me after lunch, visibly very upset. I looked at her, concerned. "What's wrong Hermione?"

"I learned why everyone was ignoring us."

"What are you talking about?" She looked up at me in disbelief.

"Have you really not noticed that no one has been talking to us all day? That whenever we enter a room it seems to suddenly get hushed and silent? That everyone seems to avoiding us and won't talk to us at all?" I shrugged, I hadn't really noticed it as I was used to this sort of behaviour from before, it before though only had been me. They were now giving her this treatment too, and I knew it was partly my fault.

"Yeah, so what?"

"So what Sherlock! Don't you get it! Charlotte has declared war against us! She's making everyone do this to us." I knew then that she was on the verge of tears. I gritted my teeth and held back the anger that was boiling inside me.

It was one thing to make the grade turn back on me, heck make the whole world turn back on me. I was already used to this kind of treatment though and I could handle it. It was another thing though to make Hermione have to deal with this too, and that was a whole another step of cruelness that made my blood boil. Hermione didn't deserve it, and we both knew it.

Hermione was the kindest person you'd ever meet, I knew she never wanted this, she never wanted this anyone even to her worst enemies. She just wanted everyone to get along, for everything in this world to be simple and kind. The problem was though it wasn't like that anymore. There were people in this world like Charlotte who would try to break others and bring them down so they could stand on top of them in superiority. Those were the people that Hermione hated most, the people who tried to break everyone.

"Why does it matter though?" I asked.

"Sherlock can't you just not stand being ignored like this?" She asked, and there was a genuine disbelief and anger in her voice.

I shrugged. "It's happened for most of my life."

She then got silent, the anger draining from her. "Sherlock I'm-"

"Don't give me that look, it's not like you can do anything about it now." She smiled sadly. The look on her face was almost sickening, as if looking like I was a kicked puppy and she was the one who did it.

"What am I going to do though?" And I knew what she was immediately talking about. She would now have to make a choice, between me and Charlotte.

"Do whatever you want to do, I don't care." I said.

She sighed. "Why can't we all just be friends though?" And while a million theories popped in my mind, there was no answer to one of them.

 **Hermione POV**

I went over to John's house after school today. There were just so many thoughts and so many unanswered questions swimming in my mind. I needed some clarity, at least some answers in this, and most importantly from someone who didn't go to our school or at least attend our grade.

"Oh, Hermione." John said.

"Where's Sherlock?" he asked.

"Experimenting as usual." I said,

"Can I come in?"

"Sure," He said, and led me to the living room.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, and I knew then it was showing more on my face than I would like to admit.

"John, what was it like before I came here?"

"Hm? Well Sherlock was the same in some ways, he was still very brilliant and rather arrogant still, but I will admit he has seemed less angry and temperamental now with you."

"And the other children, how did they treat him?" John grew silent and I knew it was as I had thought.

"Hermione you do realise that by no means Sherlock is ordinary. I don't even think the word ordinary can be applied to his whole world, certainly not him or even his family. Sherlock is in a sense extraordinary. People though don't always like extraordinary, people don't care to understand extraordinary or care for it, sometimes they're afraid of it. People like much more ordinary, simple things that follow the rules. But Sherlock breaks all the logical rules, and people don't know where to put him. He walks a little lonely path I admit, and it's sad seeing him on it." He said, his voice quiet.

He then looked up at me. "That's why everyone likes you Hermione, while you see him as extraordinary, you still treat him as ordinary." he said, and began to nearly cry.

Sherlock must have been so alone walking this path for him. I myself had never really fit in that much, I never was popular or anything like that but at least I had friends who could help me and support me through it all. Sherlock didn't seem to have that before, by John's description he seemed truly alone in this world perhaps, and lost in it too. I understood then why he pushed people away, because they always had pushed him away first. He learned perhaps at a younger age the world was in fact full of cruel and unkind things. Things weren't just as happy and fluffy as bees.

"Why do you ask?" he said.

"Sherlock sort of indirectly mentioned it, because of another problem." I then began to tell him of Charlotte and the war.

"Oh Hermione-"

"It's okay, I'm just worried about making the wrong choice and hurting Sherlock." John then looked at me with eyes full of remorse and I knew he was worried about that too.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Perhaps now you can't get out without breaking him, but you should wait it through. Sherlock and you, if you truly value your friendship then you'll stay on his side for now. When it get toughs and you begin to question it just remember what he's done and benefited for you and how you know he probably would do the same. I know you're smart enough though to make your own call." he said and smiled softly and I smiled back.

 **Author's Note**

Okay this is why it also is listed under the category of drama, another very good example of it. Hermione is probably one of my favorite HP characters for this, she's just so strong and loyal to those she is close to. She's also just so selfless, when I read them I always aspired never to be harry or ron, I always dreamed of being half of what Hermione turned out to be. Also, I'm sorry if it's a bit cynical in this chapter and a little repetitive. In general though I believe against these issues, as I will admit, people can truly be mean and cruel. It is a sad world we live in but true. Anyways thank you for all those who have actually stuck with this, and pleas review! :)


	16. Valentine's Day Pt 1

**Author's Note**

I do not own Sherlock of the Harry Potter Franchise (duh)

 **Valentine's Day Pt. 1. Chapter 16.**

 **Hermione POV**

Sherlock seemed today yet again in one of his 'black moods' as John and I had so called penned it. The usual causes for these were boredom, being grounded from doing experiments, or 'another ridiculous holiday' was coming up. In which case all three were happening. Firstly, Sherlock was banned from doing experiments for a whole month now because he had nearly set his whole house on fire (again). This then led to much anger and boredom from him, making his mood only worsen. He also couldn't do much else as he was cooped up inside due to it being the middle of winter. Finally, to top it all off, the worse holiday for Sherlock was coming up, the one he despised the most: Valentine's Day.

In truth I didn't really care much for the holiday either so I wasn't really arguing back when Sherlock kept complaining about the holiday. I never really found it worthwhile for the holiday. Like Halloween was a sort of a traditional thing, and Christmas was a very warm and merry season I always liked, but I just never really got into understanding the point of this holiday. I didn't really see how it expressed love, as far as I could see it just seemed more a merchandise thing and an excuse to watch romantic movies. Perhaps though it is because I've never been in love, but why would I be, I'm only 9 after all. Still, even if I was in love I don't think I would like it, it seemed far too odd just to express your love on a singular day, shouldn't you be in love all year round?

Sherlock as I expected hated the holiday the most out of the whole year, "Why do all these holiday do we have to celebrate dead or old people?" He asked, angrily. "We're celebrating a criminal for crying out loud! A person who married people illegally? How did that translate to being a day for a romantic holiday?" He yelled out in class one day when the teacher said we had to do Valentine's day cards. He then got put inside for all of recess.

"This holiday is probably the most stupid of them all, why would British people spend millions of dollars on this rubbish? Just express this pointless sentiment called 'love'?" He said, saying the word love with disgust.

"Love is just a chemical in the brain, it's just a by factor so that humans would eventually pass down their genes. The sole reason of it's creation is just for genetics, it's just chemicals in the brain, nothing more. Yet people seem suddenly to become lunatics over it, as if it's some big deal or something." He said bitterly.

In a way I suppose he was right, I guess at least from his point of view he was. From the logical way he looked at it, it was unuseful and unfulfilling. It made perfect sense in his logical line of reasoning, but not everything was solely just logical. There was something more to 'love' and other emotions at that. I didn't believe they just were chemicals created in the brain for evolution, perhaps initially that is their reason of creation, but they now were so much more. To explain that to him though would be pointless, I couldn't even explain it completely to myself.

I decided to slip out to get some fresh air while Sherlock kept on ranting about the pointlessness of the holiday. I was then surprised to see Charlotte on the front steps of Sherlock's patio. After the start of the war seeing Charlotte here would probably have been the last person on earth I ever would have thought coming here. I knew she didn't hate me, but still her coming to Sherlock's house; that was pretty brave of her I'll admit. I knew she was uncomfortable too from the way she was looking at this house almost in complete disgust.

We stood a couple minutes staring at each other, not really knowing what to say. I was still going over the shock of her being here and she probably was questioning a little bit why she was here too. After a few awkward moments of staring Charlotte finally spoke up. "Is this where you live?"

I shook my head, "I live across the street, this is just Sherlock's house." I said, and as if on cue Sherlock began to rant again rather loudly, the sound shaking through the walls of the house.

"Hm," she said, and I knew she was trying to hide her disgust even more.

"Why are you here?" I asked, she laughed at this.

"I'm not here for my gain, I'm just relaying a message." she said. "Do you remember what I told you about Jim?" she asked, and I nodded, the memory still fresh and seared in my mind.

"Well he was wondering if you would visit him tomorrow at the swings, and as a little gift, he got you this." she said, and pulled from her purse a heart shaped box. Already I knew without even looking at the contents the box was not cheap at all, it was cotton candy pink with little mini hearts making a heart in the centre of the box. One the edges were neatly put white lace, that covered beautifully like snow. In the centre there was a bow which was lavishly tied, a crimson bow to be exact. In short, it was just too frilly, and much too fancy for my liking, (plus it looked ridiculous), but I tried to smile and look really happy.

"So will you be there then?" She asked. I said nothing in reply but I guess she took it then as a yes because she then began to leave saying. "Well then, I'll see you there tomorrow!" And I stood on the front patio, as confused as ever.

 **Sherlock POV**

"Where did you get that package from?" I asked. She looked at me surprised, and quickly hid the package from me, hiding it behind her back.

"How did you know I was gone?"

"Surprisingly I realise when I'm talking only to a wall." I said sarcastically. "Now let's take a look at that package." I said, snatching it from her hands before she could even saying a word in protest.

The package is small, but not too small so I'll assume it holds something rather expensive. It was also scented in perfume, though it didn't seem natural on the box so it must have been sprayed on after purchase. The box itself is heart shaped and a repulsive pink, so it must be from a lover, or a secret admirer. It was most likely an admirer as there was no tag on the box or any indication of a name. I shook the box gently and I heard a little clinking sound. It sounds hard, almost metallic, so it's not chocolate. Most likely then it was jewelry of some sort, like a necklace or a bracelet. Whatever it is though it didn't come cheaply, telling from the scent of this type of perfume, to the quality of this cardboard and even the ridiculous lace on it. Even the cheesy gold font on it was screaming luxury. Plus, the fact that box was neatly taken and put together in care, as there was not a single mark or blemish on it. There also aren't many fingerprints on it, two different ones at most on it, one from Hermione and probably one from the one who gave her it. I then of course tell Hermione this and as usual she is stunned. She also seems to smile a bit, though I don't know why.

"That was bloody amazing." she said.

I shrugged, it was still sort of comical that she was amazed by this sort of thing. You'd think she'd gotten tired or desensitized by this by now after all. "I still don't really know who it is for though," I mean it's obviously meant for some girl for Hermione to deliver to, but what girl lives close to here and has a secret admirer that Hermione would deliver to?

"It's actually for me." She said.

"Who's it from?" I asked, and a unfamiliar feeling begins to build inside me, though I don't know why. It's not like I had a crush on her or anything, I didn't. Love was pointless and just chemicals. We didn't need love, or at least I didn't. I didn't need my brain pondering over some stupid thing like if I looked good or not because of some stupid person. No, I didn't have a crush for her, and that was final.

Still, whoever got this for her didn't know Hermione very well, they would have known in a heartbeat that Hermione wasn't really the type of girl you could just woo with gifts, especially jewelry. Those things she found pointless and she didn't need them anyways. She was perfectly fine and happy without them, and I liked her better without her having them. It would just be too weird with her wearing jewelry and makeup.

"Well it's just from a boy from our school." she said.

She then left to go back home, and I picked up to closer examine the hair that I had caught under the bow of the box. "Time to find out who Hermione's lover is." I said, and smiled.

 **John POV**

I will admit when I answered the door I was surprised to see Sherlock there, or rather only Sherlock there. "Can I come in?" He asked rather gruffly, in his side he had packed his microscope and from the tone of his voice to the way he walked I already knew he was a black mood again.

"Sure," I said, and he immediately went straight for the living room, setting up his microscope and slides.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He said and shot me a look.

"Uhm nothing, it's just that you usually hang out with Hermione more, that's all."

"Well she went home, and I'm not in the mood to talk or hang out with her." He said, and from his tone I knew his words were final.

"What happened?" I asked, but he said nothing in reply, not even looking me in the eye. Rather, he was busy studying away at his microscope, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, as if looking for evidence for something.

"What are you looking at?"

"A hair."

"Who's hair is it?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out."

"Does this have to do with the reason you're not hanging out with Hermio-"

"Why does everything have to do with Hermione? Why does everyone want to bloody be with Hermione? Why can't people just mind their own business! If they really want a Hermione they should just find there own!" He was standing up now, breathing hard. I took a step back, the yelling part I was used to. I had been friends with him long enough to know he sometimes got like this, but this time it seemed different. The yells seemed to have so much more meaning, mcu more emotion behind it, it was odd to see it from him of all people too.

After a while I finally asked. "Does it though?" He just glared at me, and I took a wild guess, that it was in fact, a yes.

He then sat down to his microscope again, this time turning his complete back against me. Everything was silent, but only for a few moments though, before Sherlock was yelling again, slamming the table. "I knew it was Jim, that git!"

"What did Jim do now?"

"Oh he just sent Hermione a lovely necklace and now going to probably ask her out tomorrow."

I looked at him, confused. "Why does this matter to you though?" I then added. "You never cared about Valentine's day in your life, much less people's relationships or things of that sort. Why do you actually care if Jim asks her out, she's probably going to say no, anyways. Besides, even if she does say yes, what does it matter to you?"

"It doesn't matter anything to me!" he yelled, and suddenly it clicked all together in my mind. The idea seemed implausible, no, almost impossible. Yet it could make sense, all the changes in behaviour, the songwriting, the less frequent mood swings, and even this incident of stealing a hair to find who it was from. Yes, it made total sense now, though the idea still seemed bizarre in it's own sense.

"Sherlock do you like-"

"No I don't like her!" he screamed. "I just don't want her to date an idiot git," He said rather quietly.

"Why would you care then?" I persisted. He was now turning really red, almost as red as a tomato though I don't think it was because he was out of breath.

"I just don't want her dating that git, otherwise she will turn into a git too." he said rather matter of factly, though he was still blushing intensely.

"You don't even like her a little bit?"

"No I don't! Why do you like anyone?"

"Actually I do," I said rather annoyed, and blushed too.

"Well, I don't have time for foolish things like thinking of girls, unlike you. I also for sure don't like her at all, so you can stop asking."

I then thought of an idea. "Well then that settles it. I just had the thought but you're right. I can't blame you though for not liking her, she's always so rude and annoying, and a complete idiot too. And as for her face she is completely ugly-"

"She's not any of that, Hermione has never really been annoying or rude to anyone, and she certainly isn't an idiot, you would have to be an idiot for thinking that. Most certainly of all though she isn't ugly, in fact she's rather pr-" He caught himself before saying the full world but I already knew what he was about to say. I gloated in victory, I had outwitted Sherlock Holmes, for once and had cracked the case on my own.

 **Author's Note**

Firstly I am publishing this early because I wanted to publish part 2 of this later, which will be tomorrow.

I think I just needed to write another fluffy chapter, not just because the last chapter was rather darker for this, but also for my own sake. I myself probably lean more on Sherlock's side in sort of hating the holiday in the sense. It's not that I go to the extreme of thinking love is completely pointless, but I just don't really see as much as a point for the holiday or just the stress and expectations for it. Also though I think it was really cute of Sherlock, and John's thing. That was probably in fact one of my favorite things to ever write.

Now before I get too far with this though I'm going to say right now they're not going to 'date' in this fanfiction. One because they're way too young, (keeping in mind despite them having their mature moments they are in fact only in 3rd grade). The other reason being that they both in many aspects need to mature, and just grow up. Both of them still have that very innocent and naive part of them, and for sure I don't think could or should handle dating. It would be much too odd and forced to write about it, and not to mention just straight up weird. If I ever am to write them dating I would at least wait for them to be thirteen or fourteen, and I think honestly it would just be more natural and dynamic if I waited. Anyways, thank you for reading this and please review.


	17. Valentine's Day Pt 2

**Author's Note**

As I live in this dimension I do not own Sherlock or Hermione in this universe.

 **Valentine's Day Part 2. Chapter 17.**

 **Sherlock POV**

I was even more angry and confused after leaving John's house. I couldn't actually believe John thought I would like Hermione, the mere thought of it repulsed me. It wasn't the idea that she was disgusting or anything like that, she wasn't. It was just the idea of sentiment, of the stupid idea that I could fall in love. It was these sort of thoughts that I despised the most; I hated sentiment and the emotions that came with it. What I most hated though was that it was in fact a part of me, and much as I repress it, it still existed in me. No, Hermione and I were just friends, and we were leaving it at that. There was no need to go any more, I was at least content without love.

John being a genius at times could also be a complete idiot, just as I had said before wouldn't be right. It would be a pain and a nuisance for both ends of the party, sentiment and love didn't get anybody anywhere in the end, love was just a blockage. If I befell to sentiment then I would truly then have fallen, I couldn't have my brain consumed with love, or all those stupid gushy things. It was pointless to fall in love anyways with anyone, after all, who would love me back?

Once I got home I immediately slammed the door shut, my mind much too busy and much too disorienting to do much else; and at the moment I really didn't care to see or show my face to the outside world. I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind occupied. This time though my thoughts weren't consumed with math equations, or scientific facts or mysteries. It was occupied with something much more dangerous, much more scary, and certainly much more mysterious to me. It was filled to the brim with abstract thoughts and fears and contemplation of these things, things before I really never batted an eye at. Most of all though in the end one question still lingered in my mind, did I really like her? And could perhaps she like me?

 **Hermione POV**

Okay, I do admit I feel bad for leaving Sherlock out in the dark for this one. I mean I don't really know why I feel bad, it's not like it has to do anything with him at all and he would eventually find out anyways one way or the other. Still I had left rather rudely and abruptly, and I didn't really give him a good excuse either. I shouldn't feel bad, he was after all being a nosy prick, and why does he care who likes me or not? It's not like he likes me like that or anything. Besides, if I told him I didn't know how he would react to it; it's always hard to tell with those sort of things when it comes to him. Yes, it was probably a good thing I didn't tell him, things might have ended up worse in the end I supposed.

At recess Charlotte found me, she was followed by her mob of other friends. They were all carrying at their sides large purses, which then I later realised were full of makeup. Charlotte shook her head like an older sister reprimanding her younger, disobedient sister. "You really need to straighten your hair more." I didn't say anything because she was right. Compared to her slightly wavy gorgeous disney hair and my frizz of hair, mine looked like a porcupine had exploded everywhere. Then they continued to poke and prod with me with makeup and perfume like other things, making me feel not unlike that of a Barbie or a doll. By the time I was done they had completely caked my face in makeup, and I, to say the least, looked completely different.

Jim was waiting like she had said by the swing set, and he had really dressed up a lot for this occasion. His hair was neatly slicked and gelled back, and he smelled (not so discreetly) of cologne, though I couldn't exactly pin the smell. He wore a rather formal suit, it was baby blue and even had a white tie accompanied with it, perfectly aligning in the centre of the suit. All the girls of course were gloating and gawking over him, acting as if he was a big superstar of something. I supposed he looked nice but I really didn't see what everyone saw in him, or how he supposedly was a heartthrob.

His eyes lit up when he saw me, and I pretended not to be weirded out by all of this. He then pulled out from behind him a large bouquet of red roses, where he had gotten them though still remained a mystery to me. He practically gleamed at me, and then offered a seat at the swings, then sitting on the swing to the right of me. Charlotte and the other girls kept their respective distance, enough distance not for them to be breathing on me but close enough so that they still could get a good view at this spectacle and close enough that I could still hear their rather, not so cautious whispering.

"Did you like the present I got you?"

"Yes, I just forgot to wear it." I lied.

He nodded. "There's no need to wear it to impress me, I just thought it complimented your eyes a lot. It is in fact made from real amber, just like your eyes, precious and oh so shining." He then chuckled in his own amusement.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"Nothing, I'm just so happy everything is going perfect, just like how I imagined it would be."

He then turned to look at me dead in the eyes. "Hermione, ever since the first day of school I haven't been able to take my eyes off of you. You fascinate me, you intrigue me, and maybe because I see a part of me in you. I too used to be alone and distant, too smart for this world it seemed. But now look at me, I'm the most popular boy in the grade, maybe even the whole primary school. I have friends, charm, likeability, and now I have you." I gulped.

"Hermione, please ditch that dolt Sherlock, and start being my girlfriend."

"What?" I asked, incredulous.

Okay, I admit I should've seen it coming and probably prepared for this to happen. But yesterday I wasn't exactly thinking of anything along those lines really, or preparing for this at all. I mean sure he seemed a decent enough person, but we hardly knew each other. I mean really, if he knew me he would know I just never wear jewelry, it was just really a hassle for me. Secondly, he was also trying to bribe me almost with popularity and friends, which didn't seem all too real for me. Thirdly, in return I was just supposed to ditch my best friend for someone I barely knew? No offense but even a toddler could figure out what was better for them. He really must be delirious into thinking that I had somehow fallen for him.

I tried to change the subject. "Why don't you like Sherlock?"

He gritted his teeth. "Oh please Hermione, don't be ignorant. You see how rude, how arrogant, and big know it all he is. I know that you pity him but people of his kind shouldn't be pitied, they don't deserve even that." He said rather bitterly.

"Sherlock is just a nuisance, an anchor to you, a parasite that you need to cut off. Now will you be my girlfriend or not?" I didn't know what to say. Before I could even get a word out a certain brown haired boy punched Jim Moriarty smack centre in the face.

 **Sherlock POV**

"Sherlock Janine Holmes!" Mother yelled, she was absolutely livid now, after having to pick me up from the principal's office. Her face was so red it was giving a tomato a run for its money in hue.

"Yes?" I said, bored with this yelling, it wasn't like I could go back in time and change it or anything. Besides, I already knew where this dreadful conversation was heading.

She put her hands to her forehead, her brows tightening in frustration. "Let me get this straight, you punched Jim Moriarty in the face, unprovoked and having no reason; and you punched him so hard that you broke his nose?"

"Unfortunately I didn't break his nose, I only sprained it." I replied, and to this my mother whacked me with a newspaper.

This then seemed to light her up even more. "You are hereby grounded for another month, no another two months! I also want you to apologise to Jim Moriarty when he gets back to school immediately, in the meantime while you're suspended you can work on your apology letter to him! His mother is now going to bite my head off, do you realise how much damage you've caused?!" She then went on and continued ranting, but I sort of dozed out, because quite frankly,I didn't care anymore. It wasn't really anything that drastic considering my past habits here; as one could say they were 'reckless'.

In truth I probably should have come up with a better plan than to just punch him in the face. Especially since he is one of the most popular boys in the grade, and the fact it was in front of nearly all the girls in the grade, not to mention Hermione. I wasn't really thinking then, well, I was thinking but it wasn't my usual line of thinking. My line of thinking then wasn't completely rational, it was more instinctual, and perhaps regrettably, even more emotional driven. Even now that it was over I still was angry, but the problem is that I don't understand why.

Emotions I guess are funny in that sort of way, when you learn them they seem so black and white, like equations in math, but they aren't. Human nature in itself isn't black and white. We don't all follow the same programs and react all very differently to the same situation. Even with this though we still do have our patterns and things, but it's confusing to find what ones we all follow. Emotions also appear in the oddest of times, and they aren't always so easy to understand or traced or reasoned with. Emotions couldn't be rationalised as easily or controlled, they came and went throughout you, and perhaps I would someday hopefully learn to control them. They were very hard to trace and that's why I was scared of them the most, because to me they were the true unknown, and the unknown for everyone is a scary place.

Hermione visited as soon as she got out of school, and I was still pretty mad at her to be honest. One, she had nearly almost gone out with that git, and two she had ditched me and not told me of her plans or whereabouts. True, I suppose I had snatched that hair and done my own sleuthing, but it was justified, and she didn't know about it. I still couldn't wrap my mind around that she had actually ditched me for a whiny, bratty, jerk face like him.

"How many days are you going to be suspended?" she asked.

"Enough for me to be still bloody pissed at you when I get back." I replied bitterly.

"You do realise you broke his nose, right?"

"It's not broken, it's only sprained. I only applied enough pressure for it to be sprained, not broken."

"Well you still nearly broke it." She then had the nerve to look at me with an annoyed look on her face, as if I was the one who had done the wrong here, not her or Jim. She was in fact to blame partly for me being suspended, as I wouldn't have punched him in the first place if it wasn't for her.

"I still can't believe you bloody punched him in the nose!" She exclaimed.

"I still can't believe you even remotely considered going out with that git!" I retorted.

"Did you actually think I would consider going out with him?"

"Well I wouldn't know since you never tell me any of these things!"

"Well I wasn't going to. Besides, why do you care? You hate Valentine's Day!" she yelled.

"But still, you almost went out with him!"

"I didn't even go out with him so it's not big deal, and I was going to say no before you bloody punched him!"

"Oh don't play coy with me, I heard the whole lovely conversation about how much you hate me and how much of a stupid git I am to you!"

"First off, that was Jim," she said, and then more softly. "I was going to leave soon anyways, to find you."

She then looked up at me. "Why did you punch him?"

"Because he's a git."

"Lots of people are gits, not many though you punch in the face and nearly break their nose."

"Well, he was an especially big type of git." She then smirked.

"Well you're the biggest git there ever is." she replied, and hugged me before I could even protest.

"Happy Valentine's Day Sherlock," She said, and left for home.

 **Author's Note**

Another fluffy chapter, and this was just really adorable. It's interesting to write about Sherlock and what he thinks of emotions, because while he isn't the cold adult we know today, he certainly isn't going to be warm and fluffy at all either. I like to think of him like a confused cat, curious but also sort of frightened by it, and most of all, he doesn't exactly have that coldness to him yet, so there still is a fear of his emotions getting out of control and showing too much. As for Jim Moriarty in this chapter he honestly scares me a lot more, and his older undertones (at least I tried) to convey a bit more. I would be a bit weirded out too if I was Hermione honestly.

Anyways thank you for all who read this, and I have a question. What are your biggest OTPs in the Sherlock and Harry Potter fandom, and why? Personally, for Sherlock is Adlock, but I also love Lara Pulver so I'm a bit biased. I like the idea of Sherlolly but in the long run I can never seeing it work out, mainly because up until recently she didn't have a backbone at all to Sherlock, and I felt she was just there to fawn over him, (it seemed too one sided for my liking). I also like Johnlock but I love Mary and John's relationship too much, and I like how Sherlock and Mary's dynamic works as well. As for Sheriarty, well that sort of just creeps me out considering all the nightmares Sherlock gets from Jim. My other OTP in the Harry Potter world as probably Scorose, I think it would be cute for them to date, plus the fact of Ron's reactions are priceless. Again, thank you for reading and please review too :)


	18. Aftermath

**Author's Note**

I do not own Sherlock or Harry Potter. Those are owned by king moffat and queen JK Rowling.

 **Chapter 18. The Aftermath**

 **Hermione POV**

After Sherlock got back, something huge happened at school. Not just elephant huge, or house huge, or even Earth sized huge, it was universe sized huge. Something so large that maybe even the destruction of dinosaurs seemed more plausible. Something that shifted nature to make it seem now that anything was possible, like gravity could suddenly stop working or fish could suddenly walk on land. It was something just so different that no one possibly could have seen it coming, just so shocking that no one (including myself) knew exactly how to react to it. Sherlock became as popular as Charlotte.

I was really shocked, I thought everyone would just hate him, after all the punch exactly wouldn't be classified as heroic by any means exactly. If anything it made him look worse, it made him look violent or just crazy if you didn't know the full story. Charlotte I assumed was suspecting this too, and needless to say she was shocked about the new applaud for him. When she found out how the grade was acting towards to him she looked like a fish out of water, her mouth completely agape.

The only person more shocked than both of us, was in fact Sherlock, and I can't really blame him for that. To be honest I don't even think he could predict how the grade could act, but for sure we weren't expecting this. We weren't expecting people to stop being influenced by Charlotte because now Sherlock seemed a much bigger threat (and he was little bit nicer). We weren't expecting people to choose us instead of her. But it did happen, and now I, at least, had no idea what to do. Still though I admit it was nice for things to more or less get back to normal, or at least people to stop ignoring us and for once talk to us again.

When I say normal I would be sort of lying. The incident with Jim and Sherlock certainly hadn't died down with both of them gone, if anything it just grew with more speculation and questions. Since Charlotte and I were the only other people who seemed involved with it, we were both flocked with questions from everyone about it. I never really answered the questions, not just because I didn't know how to answer them but because I didn't want to answer for them. I was afraid of giving the wrong answer and painting a bad image for Sherlock or Jim. I decided it would best for them to answer when they got back. I shouldn't make the decision on how to act on it for them. Charlotte of course didn't answer either, she was still pretty bitter about the whole thing and I think for better lack of words, now hated me. There was no point in being worried about it I decided, I couldn't change them and I shouldn't change for them. If we didn't end up being friends or anything, in the end it was fine by me. In the end I made a promise to stay who I truly was, and not change for anyone. After all these incidents if I've learned one thing it was that staying to myself and being myself ended up the best way out of the situation.

While Sherlock was gone I talked a lot to Molly. We actually became pretty good friends with Sherlock's absence; before I didn't really need to make new friends, Sherlock didn't really have any other which was fine by me. Now though I realised it was nice to know and talk to other people too. I learned actually a lot about Molly, she actually wasn't the quiet mouse everyone made her out to be, she was pretty chatty once you got to know her, and funny too. She was pretty smart too, but just too modest to ever show it. In fact the only person she actually was pretty quiet too was Sherlock, though I promised her I would help her with that.

When Sherlock finally got back though, that's when things really did began to change, and when Charlotte became really mad at us. She had been expecting everyone to turn against us, or more specifically Sherlock. She had expected everyone to see him as a deviant, a rule breaker, a reckless mess, and I can see why she would think that, I was fearing the same thing. When the opposite happened though she was furious. It turns out people began to like him, the guys thought that it was actually pretty cool that he had stood up to Jim for me. As for the girls, they took it to be a more misguided romantic gesture, and started to constantly flock him and ask details about the newest 'couple', which bothered annoyed Sherlock and amused me to no end.

In the end I was happy to see Sherlock back at school, it was nice to have my best friend back, and not punching people. Unfortunately, while I tried to help Molly it didn't end up so well, but at least she could stand her ground while talking to him. I suppose not all miracles can happen. After all, all seemed to be restored and well again at school, and it all seemed too good to be true.

XXX

Sherlock and I had decided to go to John's house after school. With all this new attention Sherlock (unsurprisingly) had turned to his rather bitter and irritated self. "I punch one git in the face and leave the school. Now suddenly when I come back they act like I'm a celebrity!" He spat.

I shrugged, I guess some things never changed. Even in the spotlight with all this love and adoration he hadn't let it one bit get into his head. If anything he dejected it, and I think he still preferred to be not liked at all than this. I myself didn't really like the spotlight; I hated being looked at and examined and questioned. I hated being treated extraordinary when I felt so ordinary on the inside, but that I guess was life and I'd have to get used to it.

John's mother was kindly enough to make a tea platter and we all sat in the living room, not speaking at all at first. Finally John spoke. "So you really did punch him in the nose?"

"How did you know?" Sherlock asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Your mom came over here after she heard you were suspended. She was pretty angry too, she was shouting so loud I could hear it through the walls from the kitchen. Almost everyone in fact on the street knows thanks to her." He said. Sherlock gritted his teeth in annoyance.

"Just fantastic."

John then turned to me. "Everything normal now?"

"More or less I suppose, Sherlock has become quite the celebrity." I teased, Sherlock scowled.

"Oh please, those stupid dodo girls won't leave me alone for my life. They're constantly pestering me about our 'relationship'. Do you know how many questions I've gotten if I've actually kissed you or not?"

"What?" I asked. John nearly choked on his tea before bursting out laughing.

"What is this about?" John asked.

"Apparently they think we're a couple, which we're not." He said, shooting daggers at John.

"Hm, you have to admit though that they're not exactly wrong." John said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Let's just say Sherlock sort of painted his own image of being the overprotective boyfriend." John said, and I could feel Sherlock now shooting even sharper glares with his eyes towards John.

"Nah, we don't like each other like that, Jim was just being a jerk." I said quickly, cutting the tension in the air.

"Yeah, he was being a git, that's all." Sherlock said, his voice seemed a little unsure though, though it may be just my imagination.

"Hm so it would seem so, at least for now." John said. I turned to look at Sherlock's expression and I couldn't help but laughing at it.

 **Charlotte POV**

I scowled at the ground, kicking the dirt under my feet. The world it seemed had turned against me, and unfairly too. After the incident I had thought everything would just turn back to normal, with Sherlock on the bottom of the pyramid and me at the top. People I thought would be smart enough to realize how much of a git Sherlock was and would stop hanging out with him. The exact opposite had happened though; for whatever stupid reason they were idolizing him, as some misunderstood hero or something stupid like that. Now in popularity we were about equal, and it seemed he was going to continue rising. This madness wouldn't do at all. I would never dare ever be on his level, yet here I was. He didn't deserve even a taste of what I had, yet here he was with the whole cake.

"My nose still hurts." Jim complained, tenderling massaging his nose. He was still whining about the whole incident, and it was starting now to get on my nerves.

"Well who's fault is it?" I asked.

"My fault? You should have stopped him."

"Well he came from your direction, besides you should have put up a better defense than the one you did. What kind of boyfriend can't even defend himself from one measly punch?"

He gritted his teeth. "That wasn't just a measly punch, it nearly broke my nose!"

"Whatever, we have bigger issues than mere quarrels now."

"Oh, care to enlighten me?"

"Well it seems the grade has turned against us, and now Sherlock is beginning to be the most popular person in our grade." Jim scowled, Jim hated Sherlock almost as much as I did, and especially now.

"What are we going to do though, we can't exactly influence them now as much."

"Simple, we just find their pinpoints."

"Pinpoints?" Jim asked, and I let out an exasperated sigh.

"Everyone has pinpoints, Jim. Little weaknesses and secrets you can exploit and use to make anyone do whatever you want. You find those pinpoints, and you can suddenly be in a sense in control. Information is powerful thing, and we can use it against them. We have to find their weaknesses, or at least one of theirs. We have to find a secret that's so dark and horrible that they'll literally do anything to make sure no one finds out about it. If we can find Hermione's or Sherlock's pinpoints, then we can make them turn against each other, and essentially win. Once the queen and king turn against each other the whole kingdom falls apart and you can finally find the truth in the rubble."

"That's all wonderful and other things, but how do you suppose that we're actually going to pull this off? In case you haven't noticed, it's not like they really have any dark or terrible secrets, or if they did they would have probably told the other. They hardly leave each other's sides, and it's not exactly like we can just stroll up casually to them and ask them."

"Besides." He drawled. "It's pointless to get secrets from them. Sherlock I'm sure doesn't care about this popularity, and besides we couldn't find a secret about him big enough that would actually perturb anyone. As for Hermione-" Jim paused.

"As for Hermione, well, she just isn't the type to have secrets like that." He said, finishing.

I smirked. "Oh poor lover boy, blind as a bat when you're in love."

He snarled at me. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You may be right about Sherlock, but you're definitely wrong about Hermione. Everyone has secrets worth hiding, we just need to find hers."

"How can you be so sure?" Jim asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Because that's what the world runs on." I said, and left to do my own research.

XXX

Everyone had to have secrets, even 'innocent and precious' Hermione had to, despite Jim's poor reasoning and naivety. I was sure she did, she had to. She was just too innocuous, to unassuming, too perfect to not have one. Yes, even the most perfect diamonds had flaws, miniscule as they may be, but a single crack could destroy a diamond and that was what I was planning to do. Yes, she did have a secret, I was just going to use it against her.

I sat on the swings, scheming about how exactly I would do this. Jim was at least right in one sense, it would be hard to get information from them. Knowingly or not, they had built several obstacles and barriers for me to go through to get even a shred of information about them. For one, both were above intelligence and therefore couldn't be manipulated easily like others, and they also in the sense weren't gullible or listening to many others (especially Sherlock). They also (besides themselves) didn't have many friends, so they had really limited their outside resources for me to use. Even if they did have many friends though I doubted they would tell them, both of them were sort of secretive in a sense, and neither were the kind to divulge or gossip. My work would be cut out for me, at the very least.

That isn't to say though it would be impossible. Nothing really was impossible if you were just smart enough in your execution of the task. You just had to play the game right, making sure every piece was set where you wanted it, and most importantly, you still were in control. That's how you won the game, not just with wits or smart moves, but with power itself. My strategy I admit though wasn't all that complicated, in fact it was pretty lowly, but there was no other option for me if I wanted to win. They had made enough smart moves to make it hard on me, but I wasn't going to give up this easily so early in the game.

I looked up at the dreary sky, breathing in the cold, crisp, air. Such a dreary day, a beautiful dreary day. People always tell me that there's always a silver lining to even the darkest of clouds but I care to disagree. There is such a darkness in clouds that pertains its own beauty, with the rolling and shifting nature, the never permanent movement, I like to think of clouds as human nature. It has its own darkness and twists and secrets, it has its own turmoil much like that of the mind. Perhaps it was a bit dark and scary, but I never was one to believe in fairy tales. The world didn't always have a happy ending, and we certainly never ran on magic or the kindness of people.

I was then interrupted from my train of thought when I heard a noise. I turned to look around the corner, and I saw Hermione, alone. Her eyes darted quickly to make sure no one was looking. I smirked as I pulled out my camera phone. Finding out what her weakness was was going to be a lot easier than i thought.

 **Author's Note**

Okay, let's first talk about Charlotte. Charlotte was probably one of the most interesting characters of all to write about in this overall, for many reasons. She's completely an OC of course, but I based her off largely off of Magnuss. Magnuss in the BBC Sherlock was one of my favorite characters. He wasn't sadistic in the sense like Jim, but he had that charming unlikeability that as an author is fun to write, and as a reader can be at times cringe worthy to read. I always thought that while Sherlock hated Jim, his true enemy in the sense was Magnus. Magnus has such a sadistic and evil personality to him, that I could see why Sherlock considered him the worst enemy of all. It was interesting to write from a child's point of view, and especially that of a young girl. While they may coincide in different universes, I always thought it would be interesting for them to exist together.

As for though I would like to talk about the next two or three chapters. I've been trying to keep the past chapters more on the plot line, and those of a similar nature in that it's more story like. The next ones though are more or less going to be like drabbles, much like the Jim chapter and Sherlock's memory one's more or less. If you do not like that I'm apologising in advance, but I would not recommend skipping them. While it may not seem like it they will become a much more crucial part to the plot, especially Hermione's. Also it will give you a lot more insight on how I'd like to see my versions of these characters. These chapters though will be before this plot though, and more or less short stories of the two character's lives, and how that affected them. Anyways, thank you all for sticking with this so far, and please review :)


	19. New Friends and Enemies-Charlotte's Tale

**Author's Note**

I don't own Sherlock or Harry Potter, first off (duh). Also want to already thank everyone who has made it this far into this and is still (surprisingly) reading it.

 **Chapter 19. New Friends and Enemies-Charlotte's Tale**

 **Charlotte POV**

 **The first day of Kindergarten**

"And there!" Mother said, positively beaming at her own handiwork, only then to frown slightly and yet again fix my braids. I looked in the mirror as Mother kept trying to mess and fix them, though I don't know what she really was fixing as to me they seemed perfect.

Everything in fact on that day seemed perfect so far, not even a single hair seemed to be astray. Mother had been kind enough this morning to braid my hair and they sat perfectly, two fishtail braids that swung evenly perfectly at the sides, tied at the end, of course, with pretty pink bows. I then looked down to examine my dress, it was perfectly brand new as father had only gotten it for me yesterday, and it was exactly what I had wanted. The dress was a pale pastel pink, not baby pink though, more of a cotton candy pink. On the edges of the dress were cute little buttercup flowers and white lace to accompany it, and throughout the dress there were little flowers like roses and buttercups to match. On the edges though of the dress for the sleeves there wasn't lace, instead they were big pretty pink bows, matching in fact, the ones in my hair. Everything was working out perfectly, as it should have been as it was after all, my first day of kindergarten. Today was going to be my first day of school, and it was going to be perfect.

I then sat down quickly to eat a steaming plate of Belgian waffles, topped with whipped cream and strawberries: my favourite. Father then came downstairs in his usual abrupt and rather stoic manner, as usual in his suit and always perfectly straight tie. He was also on that day, as usual on his phone, talking really quickly about things that I didn't know or care for so I didn't listen. Then again though half of the things father talked about were things that I don't know or cared for, and usually they were always work oriented.

"Are you ready to take me to school?" I chirped cheerily. He then frowned slightly in his stoic manner and he didn't even have to say it before I knew, I had already heard this excuse one too many times.

"Sorry sweetie, daddy has to go to work early."

"Okay," I said, I would be lying if I said I wasn't a bit disappointed. I should have expected it though, mom and dad always had to work.

Dad was the boss of a really huge business that worked all across the world, but what I had learned from him was that it wasn't like most businesses. His business didn't sell things like other parents; he didn't sell bread or flowers, or clothing. He sold ideas and secrets, and most importantly documents to very important people. Mom was a really famous fashion designer who spent half of the year anyways in Paris, scheming up new ideas for hats and other accessories for the latest models. Most of the time anyways my parents weren't in the country as both Mom and dad travelled a lot for their jobs. I didn't have any other relatives to take care of me so I spent most of the time with my nanny, Mrs. Trunchbull. I didn't like or care for her too much, she was a very cranky old lady, who always was much too strict and never let me do anything I wanted, or go anywhere outside of the house for that matter. She also to say the least wasn't very attractive and was sort of scary, with a mole the size of Jupiter on her face. Not to mention that fact that she didn't really like me either, or any children for that matter.

"Well, I called Molly's mother, she offered to take you to school." I smiled, at least Mrs. grumpy Trunchbull wouldn't take me to school. Molly's mother then soon arrived, and I was off on my first day of school.

XXX

The ride to school was really boring and felt like it took an eternity. Molly and I really didn't talk that much throughout the car ride. I didn't really know her that well, despite knowing her the longest. I mean it also helped since we were neighbours, and her mom and my mom were best friends despite having different interests. Her mom was a sort of scientist, I think a chemist, and her dad (who also like my dad was rarely home because of work) was a paleontologist, a really long and fancy word for saying he looked at dinosaur bones.

Molly and I though personally weren't really close considering how long we've known each other. I mean we were always nice to each other, but I would never really consider her my friend or anything like that. Like I said she was nice, but she was always so quiet, and the things she did talk about a lot never interested me at all, it was always something super sciency or something she had read about in a really large book she called an encyclopedia. She also didn't like playing dolls or dress up either, so it wasn't really fun when we had play dates or anything.

Anyways, by the time we arrived at the school the school was practically filled to the brim with grownups. It was like a sea of grownups in fact, all moving around and bustling about, I was glad I didn't come here alone or with Mrs. Trunchbull. We first met our kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Fowl. She was a really old lady, even older than it seemed my grandmother, and you could tell she was old by the odd way she walked in a crooked and hunched manner; and by her wrinkly skin and white hair that made her look like a mad scientist you saw on tv. We later learned that she wasn't exactly the best teacher for children either, or anybody really. Half the time in class she fell asleep and the other half of the time she was looking for our assignments that she had misplaced because she had fallen asleep. I guess though in the end she was a nice teacher, just not a very good one.

After we had met the teacher I looked around the room to see if there were any other kids. There were in fact a couple but most of them you couldn't see because they were hiding behind their parents legs, and I honestly couldn't blame them. The idea of school at home seemed a lot more fun, but now being here it was a lot more frightening than I had thought. All the adults and grownups sort of scared me, and the idea of suddenly being with a bunch of strangers didn't seem so fun anymore. Of course though I didn't let it show, as my dad had taught me to always put a brave face on in front of crowds, and never to show your true feelings. He said that first impressions were very important, and always you wanted to look confident, which basically meant not to be afraid. Still though it was a bit daunting with all these parents around, and they stuck around for a while too. They talked a little bit to Mrs. Fowl but mainly they were there to talk to the other parents about school and other boring grownup things. It was actually pretty boring once I heard their conversations. Molly of course stayed behind to stay with her mother, so I went to do my own form of entertainment by playing with a couple of dolls I saw in the corner of the room.

That's when he came, and I immediately knew something was odd or wrong when it happened. The once cheery room full of bustling parents talking and laughter from them suddenly became hushed and quiet. it wasn't a good silent either, it was one of those really uncomfortable silences, like wearing a too small dress uncomfortable. This silence I learned only happened when something really weird or serious happened, and no one knew what to say or do. Every now and then there were a few hushed whispers but then they quickly stopped, still though I could see a lot of silent stares and wide eyes; and I wondered who or what could silence all the grownups like that.

I tried to look to see who it was, but all the grownups blocked my view. The only thing I could hear were those few silent whispers, in the grownup sort of voice that usually meant children shouldn't hear it. "He must really be that dreadful boy." Said one parent. "Well, he does come from the Holmes family." another one replied.

I froze, racking my brain as to where I had heard that name before. Yes, I had heard about the Holmes family, they were the odd bird family that lived just in the neighbourhood over from us. My parents rarely talked about the Holmes family, it was one of the rare no no topics I wasn't aloud to ask about, but I was warned to stay away from them. To say the least, my parents didn't exactly get along with his. They told me the family though was very odd, and eccentric, and that they were dangerous. Other than that though I didn't know much, the father once apparently had been a former employee of dad's and the mom used to be a genius or something like that, who now was a stay at home mom. I didn't know though that they had a son my age though. I only knew of the older one, he used to walk through our neighbourhood when I was really little.

I jumped up and down but only caught a quick glimpse of him, he was very distinct looking though for sure. He had brown, almost black hair, which I really pitied him for because it honestly was just a mess upon his head, it look like someone had plastered a mop for hair on him. He was tall too, at least a head taller than me, and really skinny, like a string bean, his arms and legs being too long for his body. He had a rather thin and long face too, it wasn't exactly ugly but it wasn't handsome either, and sort of hawk like in appearance. The most intriguing part about him though were his eyes, they weren't exactly out of the ordinary in size in shape or anything like that, they were a really icy blue like the sky. The odd thing about his eyes though was how he used them I guess, or rather how he looked out into the world.

He kept scanning the room, not saying a single word, his actions though seemed to be speaking for him. He looked everyone with a look of contempt and almost maybe curiosity, but it was cold kind, and it gave me shivers down my spine. I suddenly realised also that no one was trying any attempt to talk to him, even the grownups weren't questioning him at all, as if he had put a spell on them. He just stood there silent, like a ruling king and everyone it seemed to be obeying his orders in hushed silence, and it just started to freak me out even more. I wanted him to stop, I wanted back the noise, the cheer, and the normal conversation. I wanted him to be normal, I didn't want him to be the freak he was being right then and there. I wanted him to take back all of this, and to bring back the cheeriness and normality from before. He kept staring though and calculating everything it seemed, as if there were hidden patterns only he could see. He turned only for a brief second to look at me even, but it sent up a chill up my spine. He looked almost as if he was trying to dissect me, as if he was trying to find out every part of me.

Fortunately, he didn't look at me long before moving on to look at something else. He soon left for the drawing table, where Molly was sitting. On that day though I would never forget it. It was one of those few monumental moments forever etched in your mind. I knew at that moment even at that young age that I would never forget it, and perhaps it was an early warning signs of the years to come. I should have listened to it sooner.

XXX

 **First Day of Third grade**

I honestly hated life right now and could do without going to school. Today was turning out to be completely horrid anyways. I had woken up late for starters because my alarm had gotten off, and I didn't have enough time to do my usual morning routine so my hair was an absolute mess. My new dress I had just bought yesterday already I had gotten a bit of maple syrup spilled on it. Now that my father had finally woken up (his alarm clock didn't go off either) we were practically scrambling to get into the car and make it on time to school. To top it off, it was raining, hard.

I stared grumpily out of the window, the world it seemed today had turned against me, today couldn't possibly be any worse. It wasn't fair either, why did it have to turn out this way? What did I ever do to ever make the universe this upset? I got out the car rather abruptly, only then to trip in a mud puddle, completely ruining my leggings and the bottom part of my dress.

Many of the students had also started to come in now, most of them, like me, sopping wet and rather grumpy looking too. I tried in my earnest to not draw attention to myself, but unfortunately being one of the most popular girls in the grade draws that sometimes unwanted attention, and many waved and came over to talk to me. A lot though also stayed behind with their parents, still nervously looking out to see who was there. I scoffed, personally I would rather die than come with my parents here, and especially now. My parents never came to any school things anyways, hardly anyone knew what my parents looked like, they only came for the absolutely necessary things, like parent teacher conferences. Even then, sometimes they sent my nanny, Mrs. Trunchbull.

I looked around the room, the only other kid not with a parent in sight besides me was my friend, Jim Moriarty. Jim Moriarty was a rather odd fellow I would admit, he talked about weird things sometimes and was a bit of a wildcard, but he always was considered handsome, and not to mention he was popular with the guys. He sat in the corner reading a book, and smirked when he saw my wild appearance. I then saw Molly Hooper sitting in the other corner, drawing. She was a soft spoken girl, actually a no speaker girl who had as much personality and talked about as much as a doormat. Then there was the idiot baboon of a child Lestrarde, who somehow in a miracle was able to pass even the first grade with us, and somehow managed to continue being in our grade despite his (many) stupidities. He was acting like the usual idiot he was, running around and screaming on the top of his lungs like an idiot. Finally I looked at who entered in and I scowled: it was none other than the infamous Sherlock Holmes, and followed behind was a new girl.

I did a quick scan of her, she was of average height, and thin but not super skinny. She was also of fair complexion, though she did have some light freckles on her face, but few and far between. Her eyes were a auburn brown, and bright and exciting, as if she had never been to school before. There was such a naivety in them that it made me almost pity her, that and the mess of the thing you would consider her hair, which was a dark brown. I then looked at her clothing, they were no though it didn't seem like she was wearing them by choice telling how many times she messed and fidgeted in them. Overall though just telling from her clothes and hair she didn't care much about appearance at all, not even a touch of makeup on her face. Her face itself I suppose wasn't ugly and not unappealing to look at, it was decent enough in that sense. It definitely wouldn't hurt her though, especially with those large buck teeth she had.

I then walked as she walked over and talked to Sherlock, and I cringed. She was probably going to hate school now thanks to him, and was getting the worst impression of it. She was meeting unfortunately first the most obnoxious, annoying, and arrogant bloke in the whole grade, no, the whole school. While I would admit he wasn't a complete idiot in some aspects, that was pretty much the only thing running for him. He had too many downfalls and faults that I care not to mention, and couldn't even list even if I wanted to. Even thinking back to it now brings back bitter memories and leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Anyways, as I had suspected they started to argue, though not in the way I had suspected. Most girls arguing with Sherlock usually gave up, myself included. It wasn't like we didn't want him to win the argument, but it was just too tiring and he was too good for most of us. As I watched though she didn't give up, in fact every insult or sly thing he threw at her just fired her up even more, and I realised slowly, that she was actually winning the argument. Sherlock was stubborn for sure, but she seemed more stubborn, and eventually Sherlock stormed off in defeat. I smiled, maybe this year would be different with the new girl. It certainly would be an interesting year.

XXX

Okay, I admit that calling Jim a good friend is a bit of a stretch. Sure, I mean he is not a complete idiot, and as far as boys in our grade he is handsome, but those are the only good things about him. He can be at times rather weird and morbid (almost as bad as Sherlock) not to mention he has big mood swings and sometimes doesn't make sense at all. Most of the time he's smart enough to keep these things to himself, but still it annoys me a lot when he does talk about these things. He also seems to take for granted the only reason he is popular, because of me. He tends to forget that part a lot and also likes to make me pull tons of favours, which sometimes I'll grudgingly do.

For example Jim was asking for one of those huge favours, and one didn't even think I'd ever pull or do. First off, let me explain my yearly Halloween party. This Halloween party is basically the biggest and most famous party of the year thrown by my family. It's really a big deal, like practically everyone in our grade knows about it (though few actually attend it) and a lot of fuss is made over it because it's basically the coolest thing ever. It's also very exclusive, so if you are invited it is taken as a very good compliment to you. Jim of course being popular this year was invited, but he was asking if I would invite another person, Hermione Granger.

I mean, I knew of course why he was trying to convince me to do it. The poor boy was just lovesick from this girl, and constantly was fawning over her trying to win her attention, with little luck I may add. I guess he thought this would be a good opportunity, and to be honest it was a smart line of thinking. Still though I don't really know if I'll invite her, and I certainly still don't understand what Jim sees in her. I mean, she wasn't ugly at all in any sense, she was decent looking enough, but definitely not gorgeous, so he couldn't be basing it off her looks. From what he was basing it off though, I couldn't tell. I mean she was also wickedly smart, the smartest girl probably in our grade, and maybe even smarter than that bloke Sherlock. She was a bit chatty though for my liking, and she never really talked much about other things outside of academics, especially science. She always focused on sciency things like chemistry or biology, and constantly thought about it when she should be perhaps thinking of more important things, like her appearance. Perhaps though that does explain why she hung out with the bloke Sherlock.

Okay, so at first like I had suspected Hermione and Sherlock argued, a lot. I couldn't blame her, he was even more of a git when she was around, and perhaps they did bring out the worst in each other. It wasn't exactly Hermione's fault though, half the time she was right and Sherlock couldn't just accept it. They were both pretty stubborn though and it was pretty tiring to see them argue all the time. It was like watching the biggest battles of wills ever, and neither would give up.

That all changed after September, when they got forced together on a book assignment. After that book assignment though they both changed, and for once they didn't argue, not even Sherlock picked a fight against her. They also hung out together a lot, like they talked to each other, and it wasn't for once screaming at the top of their lungs. That's when everyone practically realised they were a couple, much to my annoyance and Jim's dismay. Well, they never officially said they were a couple, but it was one of those things you could just practically tell about. They were always whispering to each other, and he was always making her laugh under her breath, and they practically talked to no one else, especially Sherlock. I didn't care much except it bothered me that they were the first couple in our grade. Yes, unfortunately the first couple in our grade were science nerds.

I had always thought I would be the first girl to date ever in our grade, I mean it made sense. Unfortunately though we had guys that lacked two things, maturity, and the courage to ask anyone of my social status out. It was in fact a bit frustrating as not one guy has ever asked me out because they are afraid of me. I'm not that disappointed though as there aren't really that many cute guys in our grade anyways.

Anyways, even after all these things and signs, poor Jim was still in denial. He thought they were just friends, even though we both practically knew the truth. That then led us to the topic of me pulling a few strings and getting Hermione to go to the Halloween party, so that Jim could speak to her in private. I of course was taken aback by it, Jim knew the details and the status for this party. We couldn't just invite the whole lot of people in our grade to it, it was very important who came. Jim of all people should know that as he was once one of those who looked only out and wished to be there. Like I said though he took for granted what he had and was always asking for more, but this was drawing a line. I finally agreed to it, not because I like doing deals with anyone but I realised it could help me in two ways. One, I could break up the couple in our grade, therefore if I ever dated I would be the only couple. The other reason was that I could probably get some good secrets about Sherlock from Hermione, and that would be great in case I ever needed some.

So eventually, rather begrudgingly I invited Hermione to the party. Things didn't exactly turn out as planned though, for one Hermione wasn't very good on taking subtle hints at all. She also seemed to be rather awkward and unsociable during the whole ordeal, making it awkward for both of us. She didn't at all take the hints about Jim in anyway, or if she did she clearly was not interested in him. She didn't stay that long though anyways, because (rather conveniently) she got a horrible case of the stomach bug, and immediately went home before Jim could even talk to her. Jim of course was disappointed to say the least, but I was happy she didn't stay that long. All seemed well now, and returning to what it should be like; or so I thought.

 **Author's Note**

I told myself I wouldn't write cliches, and what happened? I wrote cliches. Apologies already on that, and for you viewers having to read it. Okay, firstly I tried to bring out many elements of Charlotte, some based on Magnussen and others on just other aspects I thought that would perfectly compliment her. At first glance you would think of her as the stereotypical petty rich girl who hires others to do her dirty work, but I felt that was just overused, and that's probably why you see it more in her young, kindergarten half portion.

In the 3rd grade portion though I tried to show I tried to show her more conniving side. She is not stupid like most would assume, she is very smart, but more in a way of reading people. She knows how to do the exact right things and how to play people well enough to get what she wants. She thinks more of people not as people like we do, but just pieces, and she is the chessmaster.I don't ever really think of Charlotte as a character to be honest, I more think of her as a mentality, this idea and perhaps fear we hold deep. She does in fact remind me of what I would think a young Irene Adler would act, except she also assumes a lot more than Irene, and of course is still a child.

Finally though I wanted to explain a bit more why her parents don't like the Holmes. I had always toyed with it, but decided to make it final, Mrs. Holmes is in fact a witch, (still debating on Mr. Holmes though). I had always considered her to not be a witch, I always thought that if someone like Mycroft was a witch someone else in the family also had to be. Mrs. Holmes seemed an ideal choice, especially considering their relationship, I think if she was a muggle born it would be hard for her to understand those things, and put a strain on that. It also I think makes sense considering her sort of eccentric and somewhat flaky nature, that she perhaps just wasn't used to these muggle environments. Of course Mr. Holmes and Sherlock are both oblivious to these fact so that's why I never said before so.

Now the rough story behind why Charlotte's mom despises of her is because of their history. Molly mother, Charlotte's Mom, and Mrs. Holmes I would like to think attended the same college, though each with vastly different interests, but all taking a same course together. Charlotte's mom became friend's with Molly's (mainly so she didn't fail the class) and began to despise Mrs. Holmes because of how easily she was doing in it. Long story short, Charlotte's mom found out she was a witch, and to put it kindly, it didn't end well. Molly's mom of course is oblivious to these facts, so only Charlotte's parents of course know.

Anyways, that's why Charlotte hates Sherlock, partly because of his nature and having much of the similar nature of her mother, but also because she was raised in that mentality. She was taught not only to hate the Holmes, but the odd in general, the magic, anything out the ordinary. Anything weird to her she was taught to despise. Of course this is a bit cliche, and the main one I think but I felt it was a lesson to be learned (plus it makes sense). Anyways, thank you all for reading, and please review :)


	20. Secrets-Hermione's Tale

**Author's Note**

Blah Blah blah I don't own Harry Potter or Sherlock.

 **Chapter 21. Hermione's Story**

 **Hermione POV**

Ever since I was little strange things seemed to happen to me. They weren't exactly big huge things like I could make a storm in the house or anything, but they definitely were a bit on the strange side. They also happened frequently too, much to my curiosity and my parent's dismay, and they could never punish me or anything for it as they couldn't explain it themselves. It was small things like portraits eyes suddenly following and moving with me, books falling of the top shelves where I didn't even touch them, something changing a slightly different color when I touched it, and flowers and trees seemingly turning towards me whenever I walked. These strange things began to compile more and more together, and what I began to call my fairy magic.

The first real incident though happened when I was really little, I couldn't have been older than three or four. I was just at the park with my best friend Emily when it happened. We were playing on the swings, and of course with both of us being competitive we were playing the game who could swing the highest on them. Anyways we ended up getting really high in the air, (we were riding on the big ones mind you, not the little baby ones) and ended up at least five feet in the air. We kept on swinging like this, and being the rather naive child I was I kept swinging my feet higher and higher. Well long story short I ended up losing my grip on the swings and flew straight into the air, much like a rock released from a catapult.

What then should have resulted in at least a single broken bone and tears, bandaids, and condolences never happened. When everyone came rushing over to see if I was all right, I was in fact perfectly fine. There wasn't even a single scratch on me, nor a dent in the dirt on where I should have landed.

At the time I never told anyone what had really happened. Even at four years old I knew that no one would believe me so it was pointless trying to make them understand. If I told them they probably would brush it off as me having an 'active imagination' and that would be that, but I knew what had happened wasn't imaginary at all. I knew though at the same time the thing that happened to me wasn't ordinary. I had never before seen it happen to other children like me, and it certainly didn't happen to adults either. Logically it didn't make sense, but still I believed in it. What had happened was when I flew through the air somehow the tree had literally caught me. I remember the tree somehow moving to catch me, its branches being like arms or something. What happened next was very odd too, because it then sort of wrapped its leaves around me and sort of cocooned me in a blanket like fashion. It eventually dropped me gently to the ground then, landing me exactly on the spot of where I should have landed if it had not been for the tree.

I was very confused after that day, because while I knew it wasn't my imagination at all (I could tell when it was my imagination after all) I was still conflicted on what had actually happened that day. Trees weren't suppose to move like that, trees weren't suppose to use their leaves at blankets. I knew these were facts for I had never read it before nor had I seen that before until that day. Yet it still happened, and though I'd like to say it was the first and last incident, I would be lying.

XXX

After a while the incidents that had happened to me when I was little became less and less, and I began to question them less as i was too busy to ever have time to think about them. While a little part of me still believed in them most of me at this point had dismissed them, thinking it as a childish imagination sort of thing. So as I grew up and that more logical part of me still took in hold I began to believe my past memories less, and instead began to detest them. At this time though I also began to read a lot more.

Up until this point I never really had read that much. I mean I could read at a very age, but it mostly was for my own use. Reading in itself didn't interest me, I mean to some points it did but I was more fascinated with my 'magic' abilities to actually sit down and focus on anything else. By then though I had of course dismissed them so I began to read a lot more to occupy my time. It was then though that reading became rather obsessive for me, I would spend practically every waking hour just reading. It got even to the point where I was banned from going to any bookstore or library, just because it seemed I would never ever leave the place. My brain then became so wired on just the idea of reading, and it became my new safe haven. I was reading by then practically everything, from fairytales, to magazines with famous celebrities, to news articles on far away countries, and even encyclopedias with so many long words out loud I couldn't pronounce. Everything I read too became stored in my mind, which I learned was very useful also.

Perhaps though my oddest favourites were my types of fictional books. Of course like everything else I read a ton of different types of fictional books, but my favourites that sticked the most with me were the ones based off of magic. Yes, even as I denied my liking or knowing of magic, I still had retained my odd fascination for it. The little four year old aspect of me still liked to know about it, and that part of me resided deeply in my heart. A tiny part of me wanted to believe those incidents were in fact true, and that I just wasn't making up false memories. A part of me wanted me to believe I was special.

Finding books on magic though was difficult. All the stories that I could find about magic were like fairy tales. You know, the common ones where the princess or damsel in distress (usually beautiful and has only half a brain working) is saved by a overly charming prince. I never really liked them for two reasons. One, they were always so repetitive and were basically a mismatched of the same characters. There was always the gorgeous princess that had no brain or will to save herself, the 'brave' hero who had go on some daring quest to save her, the evil beast the hero attacks for no real reason, and maybe some cute little side kick that actually did nothing but was super cute so of course it was in the story. The other reason for my strong dislike in these was the way they portrayed magic.

Almost always the 'beasts' they had to slay were made by some sort of magic, and magic in general was almost always seen as evil. That isn't to say there weren't magical creatures that weren't evil, there were helpful fairies and mermaids like that, but I often found them too childish, and they never really spoke or did anything important. Also the magical people in the stories were typically old ladies, described even as ugly hags. They always were portrayed as evil too, always trying to kill the princess for some reason. Even when I watched movies with them like snow white or sleeping beauty they were still shown as mean and just plain evil. I didn't think magic though would be like that, I thought magic wasn't really good or evil, and that it could be used for good as much as it for bad. Not a lot of books agreed with that point of view though, the few that I could find with the person using magic were good, she was always a small character, never really important and always so boring.

That all changed when I read the book Matilda. Matilda was a lot different than most of the books I had read before. I had read some of the author's other works like James and the Giant Peach tree, but still I didn't really like him until I read Matilda. I probably liked the book so much because it reminded me a lot of me or who I wanted to be. She was smart, resourceful, kind, and she read a lot she. She also stood up for herself and others. My favourite part though was that she too had some magical sort of ability. Even though the author didn't specifically call it magic, it did sound a lot like my case. After reading it I just didn't wanted to live my life like her, I wanted to be her.

I decided of course to test the 'Matilda theory' and began by getting some really large books. The books I chose were the really large type of encyclopedia books that at least weighed 10 pounds that I always needed help carrying around. I rested one on the end of my nightstand opposite of my bed, in which I sat and stared at it really hard, hoping it would move to the page number I was thinking of. Unfortunately it did more than that though. The book of course turned to the page number, but then it began to do a lot more, it began to float around the room, I mean really float, and it began to flap the pages much like wings, and it flew all around the room, knocking everything in sight over. It then got the funny idea of chasing me too, and it went throughout my room trying to catch me, and in my haste I knocked down whatever remaining stuff it hadn't knocked over. By the time I had somehow figured out to make it die down practically everything I owned my strewn on the floor. From dolls to books, to pens and pencils and paper, my floor looked like a tornado had gone through it. Mum and Dad soon came to see what all the noise in my room was about, and that's when the book oh so perfectly dropped in my hands, perfectly inanimate.

XXX

I never told anyone of these incidents for two reasons. The first being that I didn't want to weird people out and draw them away from me even more. The second was that what happened mainly at school last year. It was by then the end of the school year; I was pretty saddened by then because my parents had told me we were moving away only last week, and now it was my last week ever at then best friends Ella and Jane and I were all eating lunch together. Ella and I had been friends since we were really little, bonding over our love of princesses and of course dressing up as them. Our other best friend Jane came later, we met in the first grade, and ever since then we'd been inseparable.

Anyways, after the possessed flying book incident I still had been practicing my secret ability. I didn't know exactly what to call my ability, I didn't really think it was magic because that involved wands and spells and saying stuff like that. My ability didn't require that at all, but I knew it wasn't a normal ability either. I knew normal, I saw normal, I knew what normal was supposed to be like. Everyone in fact thought I was normal, even though the opposite it seemed was true. Whatever I did though wasn't normal, but I still felt normal like Matilda, so I called it the Matilda power.

Since it was my last week of school I got the foolish idea to show Jane and Ella my little secret. I was excited in showing them too, I thought they would find it really cool or something. I thought just like books they would think it would be amazing, I thought they would like me being different. I should have known better, the world doesn't run on fairy tales or make believe. I showed them my little power and made the salt shaker in front of me float in the air.

Jane to say the least was freaked out by it, but I had sort of expected it. While out of the three of us I was the smartest, Jane had always been the more logical and more sticking to the rules out of us. She never believed anything unless it was proven to her, and she was very practical on every aspect of everything. She did in face remind me a lot of Sherlock (though she was nicer than him, and certainly less sarcastic). I didn't exactly expect Jane to like my new power, after all she had given up fantasy and fairytales at the age of four, and even hated them now saying it was pointless to read children lies. Jane had also hated dress up or playing any imaginatory game, which was probably why we weren't good friends at first. I do admit though it was a bit annoying, but we were friends and I accepted her, and I accepted that she was shell shocked.

The person I hadn't expected though to act so badly to it was Ella. Ella and I had always been the closest of the two, not because I didn't like Jane or anything but mainly because we just had so many memories and history together. I had for a while just found Jane to be a stick in the mud, she never wanted to play the games I wanted because they were imaginary, and Ella always wanted to do the things I wanted to do too. In that sense that was why we were so close, and I was really hurt then by how she reacted.

I thought she would find it really cool, amazing even. I thought I could trust her with this, that through all the things we been through I should be able to. Looking back in hindsight I probably should have done something more subtle. I probably should have at least explained to them first or something like that, but I was too eager anyways and I didn't know how to explain it either without showing it. I was also a lot more naive then, and perhaps a bit more foolhardy. I thought though I really could trust my best friend, that they would accept me no matter what even if the world turned against me. In my second grade mind it just wasn't possible for them to hate me or dislike me really. Even if I was a bit different.

What happened next happened in less than five minutes but felt like an eternity. Ella then began to scream hysterically, and started running away from me, crying really loudly. I began to chase after her, asking her what was wrong.

"Get away from me!" she yelled, crying uncontrollably now in fear.

"Get away from me you-you freak!" She screamed.

Everyone then turned to look at the two of us. Hundreds of eyes suddenly pressed against me, and it felt like then I had forgotten how to breathe. They were all also filled with terror too, and all were looking at me as if I had hurt someone and they were next. They didn't say anything, they didn't taunt me, they didn't sneer or jeer at me. That would have been a lot better than the look of pure terror on everyone's faces. The teacher's quickly intervened but by then I was already running away, tears streaming down my face.

I was soon picked up from school, the teachers calling my parents soon after they chased me down. I ended up for the rest of the week not attending school, never saying goodbye to Jane or Ella. That then is my little secret, and I don't want Sherlock to know because it will break both of us.

 **Author's Note**

The good news first: this will be the last story before we move onto the plot. This again I hope will explain some of the questions which will arise in the next part of the story, and more or less is an explanation to a few things in the future. Hermione is a flawed character, and I think though even as a younger child I liked to toy with the idea of how she was when she was younger. It's a lot more fun to do these things as well as heartbreaking, because I probably can guess that she didn't fit much in when she was younger. The last segment I think was the most saddening but necessary one, she learns that the world is a lot harder, something that we all learn in our lives one way or another.

Bad news: There will only be five more updates of this fanfic at max. I love being on the journey with you all, and it's been wonderful but I think it's about time we pull it to a close. As much as I love writing this I know this isn't the type of story that can carry on for an eternity, and I don't want it to drag. Thank you all for reading this so much and please review!


	21. Here Be Dragons

**Author's Note**

I don't own Sherlock or Harry Potter in this universe

 **Chapter 21. Here Be Dragons**

 **Hermione POV**

The skies are so grey today;it seems they are even more in turmoil and are more dampened with sadness than usual today. I stare at them as they continue to clash in the sky. Mother had once told me a story about the gods being clouds and that's where thunder and lightning came from, the lightning being their shots and their thunder being their roars of rage. Looking at it now I can't help but agree, and it certainly doesn't help clear my mind or mood at all.

I don't know why I'm feeling like this, I should be happy. I mean I guess I am relieved that all the drama is over and that people are talking to me again. Still, I can't shake this melancholy feeling in me. It's not really all the time there, it's a residual feeling. I'm not exactly outright sad, nor am I angry, I just feel lost and down. Almost a numbness in me of nothingness, I only can describe it by the look of the clouds right now.

I continue sitting on the swings, breathing in slowly the cold air. I know I should be heading home soon, mom and pa will probably begin to worry, but I can't help but take a look and try to sort my head out. At least no one is here so I can really concentrate on everything. Even though it's nearly spring everything still has that cold and biting feeling to the bones and everything is still covered in ice. Everything in this earth is still sleeping, even me it feels at times. Anyways, that's when I notice the little flower.

I don't even notice it at first glance just because it's so tiny. I realise it's not healthy at all, the cold winds and lack of sunshine has taken it's toll on it, and it looks at me sadly and wilted. I take a deep breath, I have made a promise that I wouldn't do it, and I am hard set to keep that secret secret. After all these things that had happened to me, I didn't need more people against me. Seeing that little flower and it's sad torn leaves and wilted petals just made me sympathise with it. Maybe it was the air, or just my confused mind but I begin to use my gift.

Using my gift is a bit of a strange sensation that I can't really describe in words. The best way I guess I could describe it is natural. It's not one of those learned things like riding a bike or learning how to read, it was like I was born knowing already how to do it without even thinking. Other things that I'm good at like math or science require thinking, which is fine because I do like thinking a lot. My gift though doesn't require thinking, or at least in that way, it's more emotional driven, a sort of riding in me I always knew I had. I begin to feel the tingling in my fingertips, that's always the first time. Even now as I begin to use it I can already feel it flowing through me, getting ready to be used, practically eager to be used.

I then finally look down at the flower, satisfied at my own handiwork. The flower had its leaves now healed and the petals had color and were not wilted at all. At least now it had a better chance of surviving until spring, and that thought made me happy. "I knew it freak!" I turned to look at Charlotte, who had been hiding in the corner.

I turned quickly to face her, hiding my hands behind me. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb with me! I saw what you did to that flower!" Charlotte snarled.

"In fact." she says smiling evilly. "I have it right on camera," she says, pulling out a camera from her purse.

I begin to pale, "What do you want from me?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady but failing. I can already feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

"You know, it would be a shame if people found out about this. Your perfect little reputation would be gone in the blink of an eye? Who should I show it first to? Molly? Jim? Or even Sherlock?" I can't hold back the tears now, they're falling fast.

"Why do you want to do this to me?" She laughs coldly, and there's no humor to it.

"You're pathetic. You know exactly what I want and I'm going to get it." I weakly try to get the camera, but she dodges easily and shoves me into a mud puddle.

"Did you really think you could stop me this easily? I have all this and more on you, Hermione Granger. There's nothing stopping me now."

"Just don't show Sherlock." I say, my voice a barely a whisper. I'm too sad and afraid to say much else.

"You know, I used to respect you enough to give you the benefit of the doubt. You are really pathetic Hermione. Why would I listen to you, you freak!" She says, and with that then she leaves, the camera still in hand.

XXX

 **Sherlock POV**

The next day at school Hermione was acting so weird to say the least. Even greg could tell that she was acting odd. I could tell the minute she walked into the classroom something was off, her usual confident smile and look were gone, she dragged her feet and her eyes seemed more lifeless. I began to deduce more about her. She had clearly not slept well last night, and her eyes were a bit watery, suggesting she had been crying in recent hours. She also kept crossing her legs and looking at the exit, an unconscious thing that she was clearly really uncomfortable here and wanted to leave, and that she also was hiding something. Her clothes were wrinkled and haphazardly put on, suggesting even more anxiety and rushing today. She never looked at the teacher once, keeping to herself and only answering questions when asked upon, not raising her hand even once, nor correcting people when they were blatantly wrong. The most peculiar thing though was that she for the whole morning wouldn't look me in the eye at all, suggesting that secret she was keeping was for me or about me. Actually, she did look at me, and I won't ever forget that look. Her eyes weren't angry or sad, they were remorseful. Yes, something was clearly off about her.

I tried walking over to her during lunch. We hadn't spoken a word to each other all morning, and now that we were out of the classroom she had no choice (or at least less of one) to blatantly ignore me. I might have been annoyed if I hadn't seen the look on her face. That look was the most feared look I had ever seen on the bravest girl I knew. Something really bad must have happened yesterday to shake her up this much, and I wanted to know the reason.

I scoffed at myself, was this what Mycroft called sentiment? This odd feeling of caring for others than yourself? This feeling, it was so odd, why did people want to feel this? It feels honestly awful, like a part of me was ripped out and given to her, why would anyone want to feel like that? It feels so alien, so wrong. It hurts to even think that someone might have hurt her. I know it's a disadvantage in the long run, but how can I get rid of it without feeling more pain?

"Hermione, what's wrong?" I asked. She didn't say anything, staring straight into the clock across from her.

I then reached over to tap her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Don't touch me." She said, her voice was so quiet I barely heard it. I took a step back, her voice wasn't rude or snarky or cold, it was just full of nothingness, not even a fierceness I had expected.

"Well then tell me what's wrong." I said.

"Nothing's wrong."

"Well clearly something is. You won't even look me in the face." I said, turning around and forcing her to look me into my eyes.

She turned away quickly. "Well what if there is something wrong. It doesn't matter, you can't change it." Her voice was breaking, and I knew she was on the verge of tears.

"I'm just trying to hel-" she then turned back to look me square in the face.

"You can't, you can't do everything Sherlock! So stop trying." She said, and she ran off, leaving me more broken and confused than ever.

XXX

 **Hermione POV**

I ran out of there as fast as I could because I knew if I stayed any longer and saw that broken look on Sherlock's face I would immediately start crying. I didn't want Charlotte to see that, I wanted to at least look presentable enough. Once I was sure I was alone I began to cry, the tears falling hot down my face. I wiped them away quickly though, making sure no one saw me. I didn't want Charlotte to know I had been crying, I never wanted to give her that satisfaction. I didn't want to seem broken and weak, even though I felt like it on the inside. I knew I wouldn't win if I cried.

Still it was so hard to do this, to pretend that I was okay on the inside. I knew Charlotte was ruthless enough to do it, she wasn't the kind to bluff. Worst still I had nothing to fight back. I didn't want to play this game with her, I didn't want to get involved again. I didn't want any of this. I was in it though, and now I couldn't back out. All I could do was push on, and hope for the best. I knew in the endgame she didn't really want to destroy me, she didn't hate me completely at least. I knew this had to do with Sherlock, and his surge of popularity. She was just using me as a pawn in her game of chess, and now I was playing against a queen. I was being used to destroy my best friend. No, she could destroy me but I wouldn't let her destroy Sherlock. I wasn't going to break him like that.

I had to keep Sherlock out of this as much as I could though. I knew it would be hard on both of us, especially him. I knew I was taking a chance in ruining our friendship. The alternative though wasn't an option at all, and I knew that would really break our friendship. Well rather, I had three options. I could do what Charlotte wanted me to do, I could tell him, or I could just try to work this out on my own. I wouldn't do the first one, but I also couldn't get him involved in this. I knew at least to some degree Sherlock must care about me. I mean he punched Jim in the face and nearly broke his nose. If I told him what was really happening he would be off the wall livid. I didn't really want to see that side of him, it was scary for everyone. I was also afraid though that he would be furious to the point of irrationality, because I realised he can get like that if you push him hard enough. That was what scared me the most, and I knew he would destroy himself and me if he ever knew. That was the part Charlotte wanted to see and exploit, and I wouldn't let him show it if it was the last thing I ever did. Yes, it was decided I was all alone in this battle, and I would walk my own path.

XXX

 **John POV**

When Sherlock came to my house after school I was surprised. Not only by the fact that he was alone again, but also just the way he looked. The last time he came alone he had been angry at her, but this time he wasn't at all. If anything, I'd say almost heartbroken. His whole body seemed to falling apart at the seams, and I had never seen him look just so dejected in his life. It was as if the weight of the world now rested on him.

"What happened?" He turned to look at me, on the verge of tears, the most remorseful look in his eyes.

"I don't know, John please can you do something?"

"What is it?"

"Can you make the pain stop?" He asked.

"Sherlock if you're hurt you can come inside, I can get the first aid-"

"No it's not a physical pain, but it hurts so much more. Why did that bloody girl ever have to come here? Why did I ever start become friends with her? Why do I care so much?" He said, his words were cold and biting as the wind blowing around us.

"Why do I hurt so much, do I really care for her?" He was screaming now, but I knew it wasn't at me. It was at the world. He began then to cry, I stood there frozen. I had seen many aspects of Sherlock, I had seen him happy, angry, and certainly sad. But only once had I truly seen him cry like this before.

"Sherlock, you do care for her, because you're human. And humans are the oddest, craziest creatures in the world. Caring is okay, please understand. There are dragons for everyone Sherlock, and there are always dragon slayers." I said, and together we stood on the front patio, time stopping for the eternity.

 **Author's Note**

And this my friends is the real reason I put it under the drama category. I'm sorry if that made anyone emotionally sad, it made me sad too to write about. (and if you aren't sad then good for you). Hermione I know is trying to do the best, I honestly wondered how she and just in general her parents took her wizarding powers without any explanation, and I know she probably doesn't turn to them and is just stuck, hopeless. Sherlock on the other hand is dealing with emotions, the idea I had been toying with since day one. It's a lot more interesting for him to be learning about them, because while the BBC show does an excellent representation of Sherlock turning more human, it is I think more interesting to show him as a child, because your emotions then are so fragile and reckless. Both parties are stuck in hopeless situations, and it is sad and disheartening to see. Anyways, thank you for reading it and please review!


	22. The Deal

**Author's Note**

In this universe I do not own Harry Potter or Sherlock

 **Chapter 22. The Deal**

 **Hermione POV**

I sat down at my table, even more dejected. It had only been a week since the start of this whole mess of things, but I already felt like giving up. It was just so hard to continue doing this, every day to pretend to be fine when I knew there was a bomb that could be exploded at any time at free will. The threat of Charlotte and what she could do loomed over me like a heavy cloud, and I couldn't get it to go away. Charlotte was still in control, and as much as I could resist, trying to was not working and it was just weakening me more.

I had no one really either to turn to. Sherlock and I hadn't talked much, which I had hoped for. It didn't make me feel better, even though I knew it was for the best. If anything though it made me feel worst, at least with Sherlock even if I did have a problem he could make me laugh and feel better; now I didn't even have that. Plus I hated the idea of hurting him, and it was just so hard to ignore him. I never wanted to hurt him at all, but I didn't know any other solution other than that. I didn't know how I could still be friends with him without still keeping him in the dark. I had to remind myself constantly it was for the best of him in the end, but it still didn't help with this nagging guilt inside me. Even when I remind myself, it doesn't change what I feel like on the inside.

I looked inside my backpack, seeing it was now unzipped. Maybe someone had done it accidentally? No, someone must have purposefully done it, because I then noticed a corner of lined paper sticking out. I quickly took out and unfolded the note, scanning each word quickly, my heart racing with each word, and my hands shaking at the end. I knew immediately it was from Charlotte; she was only other girl in the grade besides me to write in cursive, and she always used bright colors and made her i's with little hearts. The note itself was simple enough it read:

"Hermione-  
I've been patient enough, but if you want your secret to stay secret talk to me at recess. Otherwise I'm telling everyone, starting with him."

The teacher then dismissed us for lunch but I barely heard, and I wasn't hungry now anyways. My mind was pounding too hard, and it was racing at a mile a minute, worries were just rushing around my mind, not even to be classified as thoughts. They made my head hurt though, they weren't my thoughts it felt like, they were too illogical, too emotionally draining, and all the more incomplete. The only reason I would consider them thoughts was that they certainly were time consuming, and they made me all the more confused. I gathered up my things. Charlotte had made her move and was waiting for mine. I was going to see the queen at recess.

XXX

I met her at the swings. She was there of course with her usual group of girl friends and Jim. I scanned the playground, making sure Sherlock wasn't anywhere near. To my relief he wasn't, he was probably in the library, doing what he usually did. My stomach though was still in knots and I felt like I could puke at any moment. I knew this wasn't right, I knew I was just playing into her game, but what choice did I have? I was going to lose in the end no matter how hard I fought. At least I now I might have a chance if I could talk to her. Maybe I could bargain my way out of this, maybe, just maybe, I could do this without anyone seeing the video. I just had to keep a steady mind, that was all. I tried to keep my breathing calm, and kept my hands at my side, making sure to unclench them first. I could suddenly now see how Sherlock could have gotten mad enough to punch Jim. It was certainly a lot easier to get that mad at least, and I felt like I was on the verge.

"Well, you came." She said, swinging idly at the swings, twirling her hair. She had a bored expression on her face, as if watching grass grow.

"What do you want?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"You know exactly what I want. I want you to break Sherlock."

"Why are you asking me do it to do it though?"

"Hm, you do have a lot to learn, Hermione. As much as I do hate him, he has the pleasure of hating me too. He wouldn't care at all really if I tried to ruin him, as for you though it's a different story. The tragedy of being betrayed by your best friend, so heart wrenching yet sweet for me." She then motioned towards the camera. "Whatever freaking thing you did, I want you to do the same thing, but on him."

"What makes you so certain I will do it again?"

"oh I'm positive you can, and that you will. Perhaps you need more of an incentive?" She then pointed over at Jim. "Jim, would you like to see something?" She said sweetly, acting as innocent as possible. It was sickening. I tried to snatch it from her hands but she just coyly tossed it to the other.

"Tsk, tsk. I'll delete it if you help me. Do we have a deal?" I burrowed my fists. She had played the final move and it was just about to be checkmate. There was no way out of this, she had cornered me from every aspect. Like it or not I was going to comply to this, even though I knew the plan would probably break him. If it didn't break me first.

"We do." I said, the words tasting bitter in my mouth.

XXX

Sherlock POV

I look over at her and try to grab her attention even though I know it's pointless. All the past week she has been ignoring me like this. While I'd like to say I've gotten better at getting used to this silent treatment, I would be lying. I know she isn't being completely irrational at least, but that fact doesn't make me feel any better. If it isn't irrational then there must be a reason to it, and the fact that she won't tell me is what bothers me the most. Whatever the issue is though it's taking a toll on her. Her loss in sleep hasn't helped much, the bags under her eyes getting darker with each day. She walks with less and less confidence, and overall I would have to say she looks quite pitiful and just weighted. I would try to ask but seeing as how our last real conversation went, I'm afraid to. I don't want to make the situation worse.

I decide to go to the library to clear my head. I have always liked the library. People say the place is a lonely uncomforting place only for the most introverted, but I disagree. While it may not have the bustle of bombarding idiots of annoying constantly chatter that I hear there are voices that talk to you. These voices though are a lot more confined, more controlled, for they are the voices trapped in words, willing to tell anyone their story only if they listen. It's a nice place to be, it's a good place where I can go and sort through my own thoughts without them being interrupted with new stimuli. The only people at this time after all is the librarian, and she's so used to seeing me she hardly bats me an eye. I go into my mind to sort all these things, I need to do it now more than ever.

I begin to go through each memory of the past week, going through each room in my house, carefully selecting some to put in some rooms, and others to put in other rooms. There are few new doors created, I barely have time to create new rooms, and it's always mentally exhausting when I do have to create one. Besides, I like the doors in my palace. There's the big red one, it's the oldest one and it contains most of my childhood memories that I like to look at from time to time when I'm bored. Of course this one is really old and it hardly has any, most of those times I deleted because I didn't need them. Then there's the hallway full of my academic doors. They're all made of metal and very shiny and modern. The science one is the largest one, and it's open half the time anyways, and usually full of good things. The math one is usually pretty full too, though it's not really memories in there, more equations and abstract thought. The english and the history doors are also there, but they are seldom filled, the english being only filled with the necessary grammar things and such I need, and the history having random facts that just stick to the mind. The hallway after that is the family one. There's only three real doors. The first of course mother, it's a large oak door that's hard to push and I seldom go in there because those memories are very dulling, and I make a mental note to sort through that door soon. The father one is next, it's also hard to push but it's made of red oak, and it has less memories than the mother one. The next after that is Mycroft's, and I don't like that one either. The door even is unpleasant, and ugly black brass door with ugly designs on it, perfect for him. The door once had been decent enough, those memories though are very old, those show the times when Mycroft wasn't a are couple more doors, but those are ones for the people I don't associate with as much, such as greg, Molly, Charlotte (her door is an ugly hot pink) and all the dumb teachers I've had over the years.

There are then only three doors in a single hallway after that. That hallway I really don't know what to call. This hallway most of the time isn't open during the day, but sometimes at night the doors become open and I relive those memories. The first door is for John Watson's. That is the second oldest door and it's old and faded like a photography. It's made of wood and intricately carved unlike most of the others', it's cheery though and calming, much like him. The second door next to him is of Hermione's. Hermione's door is of course new, and it's really pretty, for some reason it's decorated with roses and always smells of roses and lilacs. it has beautiful grapevine too, and I don't know if I really consider it a door. The final door in the collection is memories that have to do with Hermione, or people in general. The door is decorated innocently enough, it's a cheery red and made of wood, simple and elegant. Inside though is a much different story. Those thoughts I seldom look at again once I store them, but even standing out here I can feel the residue of power. I can feel so many twisted emotions, some are mine currently and others from past. Strong emotional memories are the hardest to contain, they are the ones that always want to be thought about the most for some reason. I slam the door shut, making sure none leak out before exiting the mind palace.

I decide to find Hermione, she isn't in the library today so the only other logical place was the playground. When I walked onto the playground though she wasn't alone, she was surrounded by Charlotte and her goonies, ever stupid Jim Moriarty was there. I could barely see Hermione in the crowd of people surrounding her, the only reason I could was of course her bushy hair. I was too far away from the conversation to actually hear anything, but telling from Hermione's body language it wasn't anything good. I stood on the corner, Hermione came running in my direction on the verge of tears.

"What's wrong Hermione?" I asked, my voice feeling not of my own.

She wiped away her tears quickly. Her eyes becoming steely. "It's none of your business."

"Does it have to do with Charlotte?" She didn't though, she already knew I knew.

"Just stop being in this, it doesn't involve you."

"Well if it doesn't involve me, then why won't you tell me what's going on?"

"Why does it matter to you?" she shot back.

"I don't know, maybe it explains why you haven't talked to me for the past week. No, not even talk to me, I could accept that. You won't even look me straight into the eyes now. Maybe it's explain why you talked to Charlotte and why you keep playing this stupid game with the likes of her." I said, trying to stop talking but my mouth refused to listen.

"Maybe it'll explain why one of my so called best friends is completely shutting me out for no reason! Maybe it'll explain everything in here!" I said, and I was screaming now.

She turned to look at me, this time straight in the eyes. I had for a moment forgotten how her eyes had looked, how they could be so warm yet so hard and threatening too at times. "Do you want to know the answer, do you really want to know?"

"Yes I would actually!" She looked on the verge of tears before giving me the most furious look I had ever seen possessed by a human being

"Well, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, you're the genius! Figure it out on your own." She said, and continued walking, I didn't have the nerve to call her back.


	23. Secrets

**Author's Note**

I do not own the Sherlock or Harry Potter franchise (this is getting really old now).

 **Chapter 23. Secrets**

 **Hermione POV**

I closed my eyes, I felt like crying but no tears ran down my face. I was too sad to cry now, and much too scared. I knew this was wrong, and it did hurt me to think about, but I had no other choice. Either way both of us were going to be hurt, and I didn't know which way was more humane. I sat in the corner of the library one last time, breathing in, breathing out. I then began to look for Sherlock.

The plan itself was simple, I was to get Sherlock and lead him to the playground. There Charlotte and Jim by then would have gathered about the whole grade to see the spectacle, and they would be waiting. I would use my special gift then to flip him in the air, forever embarrassing him. After that Charlotte would give me the camera and I could delete the video, and it would all be over. It was simple enough, or at least in theory. Emotionally this was a lot harder than it was to see on pen paper, and I didn't know if I could do it.

I hadn't slept well last night, so I wasn't thinking well either. Last night my brain had been in so much turmoil, it had spent so many hours trying to think of a better solution where Sherlock never figured out. I knew after this I certainly wouldn't forget it, and perhaps I wouldn't forgive myself either. I wasn't worried now about me anymore, not really. I was worried about Sherlock, what would happen to him after this? I knew that with all these wicked things Charlotte was right in one thing, it was a lot more damaging coming from me than her. She didn't want to just break him down, she wanted to shatter him. She wanted to break him so much that he never did this again, that he was so broken he could never fully put himself together again as the pieces were too broken to be remade. That's what scared me the most about Charlotte, because I knew she was mean enough to it.

I was afraid Sherlock would never recover after this, and perhaps I wouldn't either. What would happen after this scared me so much, and I tried my best not to think about it but it was hard not to. I was afraid I was going to do what she wanted, I was afraid and mad at myself for being born with this stupid power. I was mad at myself that I was too stupid and too much of a coward to let Charlotte get me like this. I was just angry I was now letting her win, and it was all because of me. She had cornered me like a spider, getting ready to catch a fly in her web. Everything just seemed hopeless and I was forever stuck like this. I walked into the library again, time to go into battle.

XXX

It had taken some convincing to get Sherlock to come with me, and by the time he had finally agreed to go with me to the library Charlotte had already started a small mob.

"Hermione, what's happening?" He asked.I didn't look him in the eyes because I already felt on the verge of tears.

"Sherlock, people do stupid things to protect themselves and others. You know that right?" I said.

He gave me a confused look. "What are you talking about?"

"Just promise that one day you will forgive me-"

"What?"

"Just promise me-" I said, my voice cracking.

He took a deep breath. "I promise."

I led him to the circle, charlotte turned to look at me, a look of sweet satisfaction on her face. She was wearing the perfect outfit for this, as if she were getting a million dollars or something for this, and I guess in her mind she was. She was seeing her enemy get destroyed, and it made me sick to my stomach. Jim stood next to her, looking just as smug, though he was slightly confused it seemed. He gave me a slightly concerned look before returning to his usual smug self. I then led Sherlock to the center of the circle. He looked at me quizzically, and I knew he was trying to deduce his way out of this, and was just trying to figure out what was happening. I walked back into the circle and closed my eyes, I knew if I opened them it might reveal everything, and then that would make everything worse. I took a deep breath in and began to use my magic.

Sherlock began to walk away soon, but then I began pulling him back to the center. He turned to look around frantically to see who or what was pulling him, but he got more confused as I continued to pull harder. His movements were strong, stronger than anything I had done before as I had never done it on a person, but mine were stronger. He eventually stopped pushing as much; not because he had given up but because he was trying to think, to analyze. He was looking for explanations, for answers, and for solutions. All of which he knew was in my face. I wouldn't give him the answers though.

I turned to look somewhere else in the circle, my eyes locking with Molly. Molly immediately recognised that look on my face and her eyes widened. She started at look at me frantically, she couldn't do anything though because it was already too late. Besides, I didn't want her in this mess, it was already too much that I and Sherlock were in it. Tears began streaming down my face, but they weren't the foolish ones of sadness or sorrow. They were anger at Charlotte, at myself, at the world, and they only seemed to fuel my power more.

"Any moment now," Charlotte whispered in my ear sweetly. I began to count down from ten.

 **Ten:  
** Sherlock, I know I'm a coward, and I'm sorry for that I'm not brave enough.

 **Nine:  
** Please do not change or break, be stronger than whatever I could be.

 **Eight:  
** I guess now I should start on my other apologies to everyone.

 **Seven:  
** Mom and Dad, I love you so much, I'm sorry I'm going to be a disappointment now. I'm sorry that I'm now doing the wrong thing, and that I never asked you or told you about this in the first place. I hope you can forgive me if you ever find out about this.

 **Six:  
** Mrs. Holmes I am sorry to say I'm a disappointment, not only to you but also to Sherlock. Sherlock deserves so much more than me for a friend, and I hope he does get one. You are also very lucky to have him, please do take care of him after this, I'm afraid I might be one of his only true friends besides John after this. Make sure he still stays kindly and innocent, and tell him I will always care for him.

 **Five:  
** Molly I let the bad guys like Charlotte win. I guess I'm not really a hero, perhaps I never was meant to be one. Heroes maybe don't even exist, they're just the ordinary who do the extraordinary.

 **Four:  
** I broke your promise and I know you perhaps will never forgive me. Please take care of your brother, be the side of the brother I know you truly are, the one that you don't ever care to show to him. Be the one I know you can be. Show him mercy and kindness that is in you. He needs it now more than ever.

 **Three:  
** John I'm going to break him, and you're the only one who can truly heal him now. You will be once again the only true friend he will have, and I don't want him to lose you either. He walks now a more lonely path, make sure he stays away from trouble. I know that you were counting on me to help, but now I leave you to carry it all alone again. I just hope you can pick up all the pieces.

 **Two:  
** Hermione, you are a disappointment. Promise that no matter what you will never do this again to anybody, even if it becomes a situation like this. It's too late to stop now, but remember and rue this moment forever.

 **One:  
** Please forgive me Sherlock.

I suddenly paused and opened my eyes to look at all the commotion around me. I had the squeezed so tightly before because I thought I would cry, but now that they were wide open something very different was happening. I turned to look at the spectacle before me, Sherlock had somehow snatched Charlotte's camera, and was rather dangling it in front of her in a taunting manner. Charlotte of course was desperately trying to get it back, jumping up and down not that much that unlike of a small dog. It was pointless for her to jump though as Sherlock towered about a head taller than her, and he smirked easily at her feeble attempts.

"Is this why Hermione has been upset for the past few weeks? What's on here Charlotte?" He taunted. She suddenly stopped jumping and smiled easily.

"I don't know, if you're so curious to find out, why don't you have a look?" She taunted. He paused, and I knew then he had fallen for it. If he had one major downfall it was of his curiosity, and I knew he desperately wanted answers for everything. Charlotte was just giving him the bait now to find it, and it must have been irresistible.

"Sherlock, please don't look at it." I begged.

"Why shouldn't I?" You've been hiding and dodging me all these weeks! You nearly did what Charlotte wanted you to do! You didn't have the guts to tell me what's on this stupid thing! If you don't trust me enough, why should I trust you?" He said coldly, his words being as sharp as a dagger. He began to play the video.

His expressions were too much, and I knew somehow that his eyes couldn't compute it all. There was no shining in joy that he had found the answer, there was no fascination. There was only mere shock, maybe even disgust or horror. He turned to look at me, his face numb. "Hermione I'm so-" I didn't hear the rest though, I was already running.

XXX

When I got home Mom and Dad were already there. Which was in most senses odd, but I didn't question it at the moment. I needed them more than ever, I wanted to be hugged and kissed and told everything was going to turn out okay. I want to be cared for and just loved at the moment. They came quickly to do so after seeing my face, not even asking a single question. They said nothing actually, until I finally started speaking.

"Oh Hermione," Mom said softly, brushing my hair away from my eyes.

I sniffled under my breath. "What are you guys doing here?"

She then looked at me with the most regrettable look I had ever seen on my mother's face before, and I suddenly didn't want to know the answer. "Oh Hermione, I know you were just starting to fit in, and you had that best friend of yours, Sherlock." I then knew what she was going to say but I didn't want to believe it.

"We're moving again, aren't we?" I frantically searched their faces to see if they were lying. This couldn't be happening, this couldn't be true. Yet they seemed honest.

"I'm sorry sweetie. Dad got a job near his old place in London. We'll keep this house of course, but only as a summer one. We'll be moving back to the old apartment in London."

"But why?"

"I know things aren't fair." Dad began to say, but I was already running to my room, slamming the door behind me. Things were moving too fast. Worlds were colliding, stars were dying. Everything was going too far and too fast for my liking. I just wanted time for once to stand still.

 **Author's Note**

Thank you all for reading through this, now there will be one more chapter after this to wrap it all up, (well not really). While I know many of you will probably dislike this ending I solely chose it because as much as I love this it felt like it needed a finite end, and I felt like just her moving wouldn't be enough. These characters need to emotionally and develop apart from each other, especially in the sense of Sherlock, as I felt if Hermione stayed he would be a drastically different character I don't really care to write. Anyways, thank you again and please review!


	24. The Little Magnifying Glass

**Author's Note**

I don't own the Sherlock or Harry Potter Series. Also, thank you all for this wonderful cute journey you all have traveled on.

 **Chapter 24. The Little Magnifying Glass**

 **John POV**

Just two short weeks later Hermione seemingly vanished out of the small town, leaving as quickly as she had left. Those two weeks I will admit neither parties were too happy. I hardly saw Hermione during those times (only visiting briefly and always making sure Sherlock wasn't there) and as for Sherlock, well Sherlock went back to his old habits and routine. He became a bit of a recluse like he always had bee, I mean he still came to my house every so often, but these times they weren't really for his own amusement. I could also tell something major was bothering him, and that something bad had happened between the two, but both delighted in not telling anyone.

During those two weeks though it seemed they hadn't even talked once. Sherlock didn't even know that Hermione was moving until I told him. Surprisingly he had taken the news well, he certainly wasn't angry like I had expected, though he wasn't happy either. Then, again he rarely was happy now. He rarely smiled, he even lesser so laughed or did anything to indicate he even knew how to be happy. He barely talked about the things that interested him, and the only way he would talk (without someone asking him) was to correct the telly or something like that. He most certainly didn't talk about Hermione, even when I mentioned the move. He simply had said in reply. "There is dreadful weather in London." I decided to go the safe route and not press on the matter.

I only brought it up one time, it was the day Hermione was officially leaving. Hermione in the morning had been nice enough to say goodbye to me, but I also think she indirectly wanted me to say goodbye to Sherlock for her. I of course had tried to ask her what had happened between the two for the last time, but she gave cryptic answers much like Sherlock, and didn't seem eager on the subject either.

Sherlock had come to the house a little later in the day, positioning himself on the couch and reading his rather large encyclopedia. I myself was just hanging out in the house, rather bored. "There's the moving van." I said, looking out at the window.

"Hm, so that's what that noise is." He said, half listening.

"Did you say goodbye to her?" I asked.

"Why would I do that?"

"Well, I thought you guys were friends."

"Friends is an odd term to use. I barely know her."

"Sherlock, whatever happened between the two of you-"

"Oh nothing happened between the two of us. I just learned that she thought me as an idiot and I learned that she doesn't trust me." he said, slamming his

encyclopedia shut.

"Still, aren't you a little bit upset that she's leaving?"

"Why would I be?"

"Sherlock, like it or not you do have to realise you were friends with her. You must somehow care about her enough to tell her goodbye."

"And how can you be so sure of this?"

"Because I know you!"

"Well, clearly you know wrong." He said, opening his encyclopedia and completely ignoring me.

I let out a grunt of frustration, why was he so stubborn like this? It was really bothersome actually. I then dug out of my pocket the gift Hermione had given me.

She had told me it had been a goodbye present for me, but I knew it was never meant for me. She had been just hoping I would understand that enough to give it to the real owner. "Well, if you never were friends in the first place at least you can take this from her." I said, tossing it over to him.

"What?" He asked.

"She left it with me, told me it was for you in case she didn't have time to see you." I said. her car then drove out of the driveway.

"I guess she was right." I said.

"Well I don't care for it, you can keep it." He said, but I noticed he tucked into his pocket, just for safe keeping.

XXX

1 Year Later

Sherlock POV

"Sherlock Janine Holmes! For the last time clean your room!" Mother yelled for what seemed the hundredth time.

I rolled my eyes, finding the whole thing rather trival. If it really bothers her she can just clean the 'mess up on her own. I was too busy to be bothered with my mother's definition of 'organization' and 'cleaning.' Besides, the room was already perfectly clean, perhaps cluttered with many things but it was organized in its own fashion and I knew in this 'mess' where everything was. I didn't want her to clean the room as I knew she would do it in her own way and I would find nothing in the room.

Mother stood in the center of the room glaring half the time at me, and the other time at the mess I had created. I gave in return a bored look as if I were cloud watching. "Are we done now?" I asked.

"Just look at this mess!" She cried, thoroughly exasperated.

"It's not mess, it's research."

"Well, at least some of it you can get rid of. Like this box of junk, you haven't even messed with any of this in a year, and it's probably full of useless things." Mother said, sneezing from all the dust covering it. She then opened the box, ready to examine the contents.

"Put that down!" I screamed. She turned to look at me, half shocked and half furiated.

"Lower your tone young man!"

I took a deep breath to try to keep my voice steady. "Just put the box down." She then paused, realising what the box was.

"Well, in any case I'm done trying to clean this horrid mess! Do it on your own!" And with that she left, slamming the door behind her.

Once I was sure she was at least in the hallway I quickly checked that she hadn't taken any contents of the box. Inside all the things I had put in there were still in place. An old and tattered Charlie and the Chocolate Factory novel stayed in the corner, old stink bombs that had long dried up and become useless now laid in the bottom of the box, a too small Peter Pan costume that was now faded and dusty laid neatly folded, an old newspaper article faded with age and showing of a case about a dead boy which was still unsolved, a bee sweater that was beginning to unravel, the bee still looking cheerily at me, crumpled paper which had been my earlier rough drafts for sheet music, my old and rusted violin, valentine's cards for whatever reason I was still keeping, some of them I don't even know from whom, and at the top of the box laid the magnifying glass. I took each out slowly examining each with care, laying each out neatly across my bed, and in part reliving each memory with them. Somehow looking these even though I knew it was pointless, I couldn't bear to part with them.

I flipped through the book, some of the pages still tainted and smelling faintly of the hot chocolate I had spilled on them all those times long ago. I rearranged the stink bombs, which now felt a lot smaller in my hands. I neatly folded again the peter pan costume, remarking at the still stains from all the candy I had eaten on that night, and noting the little small details of sewing I had long since deleted from my mind. I folded up the newspaper article, fondly reading the old and faded title of the case, and remember how much time I tried spending to solve it. I rubbed between my fingers the bee sweater, still being soft and warm in my hands even after all this time. I uncrumpled the music and used my violin to play the broken tune, which sounded now a whole lot more depressing. I scoffed at myself for the messy scrawl in each valentine's, deducing from whom each one was from. I stopped to pause at Hermione's her neat scrawl forever trapped like a time capsule, it was so neat and naive and innocent. Her writing then even seemed more innocent and in general happy. It was foolish to think about her though, especially now.

Finally, I scanned the magnifying glass when I noticed that it needed batteries. It was odd that she didn't put any in it before, but I decided to put some batteries in, just of course for my own amusement. After all, it wasn't a useless things like the other ones, and it would be handy just in general. When I unscrewed it though I was met with a little surprise. Clever as she was I should have suspected it but still it was nice being a bit surprised as it so rarely happens for me. As I opened it I realised why she hadn't put batteries in there before, she had hidden a little note in that compartment, and I couldn't help but smile at it. She had always been so clever, cleverer than me in some ways. She had been the most clever even now to the end, and I guess this was a good way of saying goodbye.

I unfolded the note slowly, careful not to tear the faded paper. I immediately recognised her writing; she was one of the few people in our grade to write in cursive. Besides that her writing was very distinct, it was always small but not super tiny, and it was neat enough to be legible but only barely so. I also for whatever reason was slanted slightly to the left, but not enough for most to notice it. Her writing this time seemed rushed and quick, just like her mind was. I read the note carefully, absorbing every word into my mind. In truth it was just a simple quote from her favourite book: The Little Prince.

"The most beautiful things in the world can not be seen or touched, only felt with the heart

-The Little Prince"

That was all the note said, but I don't think any more was needed. I began to laugh; she had hidden this and I had waited so long for a secret message like this. Here it was, and all it was a stupid little quote from her favourite book. Even to the end I still had this strange weakness of sentiment. I thought back to my brother and our last meeting. It had been over last Christmas, upon hearing of my 'worsening mood' back then and the move of Hermione he began to talk to me about the weakness of sentiment. Well, rather he reprimanded me for it, saying it was just chemicals found on the losing side.

I knew that too now, sentiment never helped anyone in the end. I knew it was weakness that now I would have to overcome if I actually wanted to do anything important in my life. I had worked so hard to get away from it, I had tried not to make connections that would break me, yet in the end I still had fallen for her. She had somehow made me like this, and it affected me so deeply. Like it or not I guess John had been right, I had cared about her, maybe I still did.

I began to laugh again at this cruel irony. I had always hated the fools who loved and cared for others too much, the over sentimental and over loving always bored and disgusted me. Yet here I was, looking over and messing with all this pointless stuff because I couldn't bear to be torn away from her. All of this I was just keeping for someone who didn't probably even remember or care for me even more. Most likely she had completely moved on with her life, and I can't blame her for that. Why would she care about me? I after all shouldn't care about her, it was a nearly year since I had seen her. Yet here I was in the heap of my own memories, trying to find my own clues of the past that have long since faded or never existed in the first place. Oh the irony the world had put me in.

I took a deep breath in, I needed to go to my mind palace. I took another breath and delved in. There weren't any more doors I had created after Hermione left, mainly because I didn't need any more. The hallway though was still there, even though the last two doors hadn't been opened in over a year. Hermione's door was still gorgeous with it's intricate rose carvings and spirals that made my head turn. The door had also antiquated though, as there had been no new memories of her to hold, and because I rarely used it was beginning to fade away. Still, it did smell the same, roses, and lilacs, but more faintly. I closed my eyes for a second before for the first time in a year I opened it again.

"Hello, Hermione."

 **Author's Note**

And that's all folks! Now before I get a lot of angry reviews I'm writing a sequel to this. The sequel will be both of course when they're sixteen, in Hogwarts of course I've decided. Hoping to get all of it done by end of May. While it's also in the early drafts though please tell your opinion on how to shape this sequel, I'd like some more ideas in case you have any.


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